Professor England
by Logfella
Summary: The murders never stop, the pain in England's heart from his people's deaths never stop. How will England overcome this dire situation to stop Voldemort? Well it's obvious, protect and keep watch over Harry Potter, the boy who's foretold in the prophecy. How? By becoming a Professor at Hogwarts of course.
1. Chapter 1

Not a day goes by without feeling the pain of his people, a great pain that always struck the hearts of the personified countries hearts. Whenever a person died, at any given moment a sharp prick went through their hearts. It happened constantly since people die every minute whether it'd be from disease, murder or any other form of death, the prickling never stopped. It only got worse during wars and mass murders. _Especially_ when it was tied to the magical world.

England was no exception to that. These past 11 years (and even before that) have been taking its toll on the old nation but his body has definitely been getting a worse beating these recent 3 years.

This Voldemort guy has the bloody nerve to go around on killing sprees with his Death Eaters, and its obvious the Ministry has poorly executed the proper measures to take them out. Its blown out of proportions and even the Daily Prophet has started to call this the First Wizarding War.

England sighed heavily, keeping a steady hand on the chair. After another shaky breath, the weathered nation straightened up and attempted to take a few steps forward. It was in vain as he fell into the next chair in coughing fit, blood with it.

Dear Lord he could _not_ go to the World Meeting in this condition but he couldn't not go either. Missing out on a few World Meetings (Oh you know 8 but who's counting?) was enough to get his boss yelling at him for his uncharacteristic behavior. Oh if only he _knew_ what was happening in the magical world right now.

But alas his boss, being a muggle, wasn't all to keen on hearing about 'flying people' and 'chocolate froggies that jump at people' (just one time he tried to give his boss a chocolate frog and he never hears the end of it) and his boss is still unable to comprehend the dire situation at hand that results in England's poor health.

Even if he wanted to England could _not_ interfere with the magical world, especially_ now_ considering there's a mass murderer on the loose who, if the rumors are true, is trying to find a way to achieve immortality.

Imagine England, a personified country waltzing up to the Ministry of Magic offering help, then having it plastered all over the Daily Prophet about a man claiming to be the actual country of England. A lot of witches and wizards wouldn't be pleased hearing about a seemingly immortal man and if even word about it got to the ears of Voldemort, well, who knows because would England rather not dwell on what sort of torture would occur if captured by him.

So to please his boss (mainly to get him off his back), England pulled on his jacket straightened his back and placed a mask of maturity and power on his face. Lets hope the pale skin and heavy bags under his eyes didn't give him away too quickly.

October 27, 1981

It's really displeasing to have a World Meeting at France's place. God he 'd do _anything_ to not have a meeting at his place. Merlin's Beard it was like walking into his worse nightmares and one he couldn't wake up from either.

England leaned against the clear door of the building, leaning his head back and trying as discreetly as possible to not hack up blood. If any other nations saw him like this h-

"Yoooooooooo England! What's up bro?"

That high cheery American voice was not music to his ears.

_Why now of all times America. Why. ._

"Hey dude, are you ok? Did you sleep at all like, ever? That's some heavy baggage under your eyes." America inquired inquisitively, a hint of concern in his voice.

England sucked in a breath and turned to America, "Who the bloody hell do you think you're talking to? Of course I'm all right. Not all of us can be so cheery in the morning, some of us actually _work_."

England turned and started his walk towards the stairs. He's so grateful that it's on the second story and he didn't have to walk up too much. He just had hoped he'd walk up it alone.

America jogged up to him quickly and fell in sync with his slower than normal pace.

"Jeez dude I'm sorry I was concerned, no need to be so rude Iggy."

All England could do was roll his eyes and look the other way. He was even tired to try and retort to that old name of his.

America was no dunce and it was obvious that England wasn't doing well. He's a grumpy old man who never was too tired to try and comeback at someone.

America looked over him from head to toe, noticing his outstretched hand on the railing for support, which he shouldn't need, his more ruffled hair and the dark eye circles underneath his weary eyes. Those beautiful green orbs that America loved looking at only held distress, worry, and anger against his paler than usual complexion. Anger towards whom, well that was a question that England wouldn't answer, even if asked.

America sighed and kept his pace with England, to make sure he didn't drop unconscious.

Arriving at the meeting room was a great relief to England, taking in a deep breath and stepping towards the nearest chair and dropping down ungracefully in it.

"Hey England, that seat is saved for Kiku."

England looked towards the Grecian man at his left, who looked tired as ever, and once laying his eyes on him, Greece looked a bit shocked at the state of England. Good to see he had more than one emotion.

"Well I'm sorry for the bother, _Greece_," he seethed out, "but if you wouldn't mind I'll be taking this seat."

Greece blinked twice and looked to America in question.

"Ah- sorry about this Greece, but would you mind if I sat next to him today?"

"No need for that America. I'd rather have silence beside me than hearing your obnoxious voice spouting nonsense."

England shifted uncomfortably in his chair so he could face towards the middle, turning his back on America.

"Wait a min-"

"Oho~ Look who finally decided to show up hmmm?" said a sweet, song-filled voice.

England resisted the urge to punch him.

America looked at France then back to England's sagging shoulders crouched over the table.

"Oi, England, say something." France spoke again, irked that the English man is ignoring him.

"Shouldn't you be hosting a World Meeting, France?" was the only audible thing coming from the slumped over man.

"Why you little-"

America grabbed France's shoulder, shaking his head. France's eyebrows rose in confusion and taking one look over of England, France agreed to America's wish and headed towards the front.

_Oh this better be quick_ England thought, trying to muster up energy to pay attention.

And quite frankly, it did not go as quickly as England had hoped for. Barely 2 minutes in and all hell broke loose. Voices shouting over one another that only kept going into, what was it now? England eyed his wristwatch. 46 minutes had passed.

Bloody hell this would _never_ end. He was able to keep his coughing to a minimum and every other minute America would look over to him then continue his arguing with all the nations. At least the Grecian to his left gave him some peace and quiet.

_Don't worry, just half an hour more the-_

Coughing erupted from him that stirred Greece and woke him from his slumber. Greece looked at him and for once he didn't have any signs of sleep but he looked genuinely surprised. Oh dear God this coughing was the worse yet.

England covered his mouth that was spurting out blood everywhere. Spain looked at him incredulously from across the table and America and France stopped their arguing. One bye one the nations looked to England.

"What the bloo- _[cough]_ –y hell are you all- Ack!"

England grabbed his chest grabbing a fistful of clothing. His heart hurt so _much_. His people were dying.

_Bastard I __**swear**__ I will kill you._

England forced himself up and made way for the door as quickly as his weak knees could get him.

"Wait England!"

Britain sighed and leaned against the door, his vision becoming blurrier with every blink. Everything around him became dull until he finally closed his eyes and dropped to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since Voldemort's gradual rise in power, England has had nightmares every time he's closed his eyes. He could see visions of green light and hear the screams. God the _screams_ were so horrible to hear. But he couldn't ignore the screams of his people. He couldn't ignore their lifeless bodies strewn across the ground. Their faces forever in a state of shock, dead eyes set in their skulls.

But this nightmare was different. It was, it was as if he was observing the world through another's body, a body close to the ground. A child?

To the left, a red head woman with beautiful emerald eyes was looking at him on the carpet, an outstretched hand reaching towards him, mouth agape. Dull footsteps turned towards him, black robes gracefully turning at the movement.

He looked up only to see a hand stretching out holding a long slender stick.

_Oh God no._

The words he dreaded to hear the most spoke from the robed man and green light blasted at him.

England jolted upright in his bed in a sweat, breathing heavily and eyes wide. He swatted the chair next to him at the same time, the chair landing with a loud _THUNK_ on the marble floor. Did he just experience the death of one of his people? A _child's_ death?

England grabbed his chest but only felt his bare skin and sweat. Looking down and all around, he realized he was in an unfamiliar bedroom that disgustingly reminded him of a French man.

Heavy footsteps came from the other side of the door and upon reaching the room, the door slammed open to reveal America and Canada, both looking terribly tired and terribly worried.

England sighed heavily before speaking, "Please tell me we're not at Fra-"

"Ah he woke up?! About time he did! Taking care of him at _my_ hous-"

America ran up to him and jumped on the bed, "Dude what happened?! I could tell there was something wrong with you when you didn't snap back at me the other day! It was totally obvious! What the hell is going on England?"

France and Canada came to his bedside, France eyeing America with an annoyed look for being interrupted.

"I-" England started but stopped. Should he tell them? England carefully examined them before looking down at his own lap.

The last thing he needed was a conversation about that bastard. Really it was his country so his problem, right?

"Hey England, does this have anything to do with that mass murderer calling himself Voldemort?"

England blinked and looked to France surprised. "How did you-"

"I'm just across the water and news travels fast you know. Especially anything that has to do with magic."

England rubbed his head, "Should've known that."

"Voldemort?" Canada questioned softly, wondering aloud.

"Wait who's that? Why haven't I heard anything about him?!" America asked loudly.

"Not everything has to do with you America!"

"Whoa England calm down! Is it illegal to be worried now? Sheesh!"

England pushed his hair back and leaned against the headboard. He won't be left alone unless he told them huh?

_Bloody hell he was not in the mood for this but I'vegot no other choice_ England thought. He took in a slow breath before speaking.

"Voldemort, the name this bastard goes by," England growled saying the name "is a dark wizard who's been killing anyone anywhere with his lackeys known as Death Eaters. It's been going on since the start of the 70s and its only gotten worse these past few years. The Prophet's been calling this First Wizarding War, bullshit I say. The Ministry hasn't done any serious work to stop this, too coward to fight against him."

The shock was apparent on the brother's faces but France's face was indiscernible.

"But what are you going to do about it?" England glanced at Canada who was first to speak. "Are you no longer communicating with the Ministry?"

"No, after the World War II I cut off ties with the Ministry because the muggles needed more help. Those witches and wizards are fine since they have their magic to clean up messes and repair their world." Canada mouthed an '_oh'_ at the response.

"Why don't you just get in touch with them again bro? I'm sure having you around the situation would get better." America asked, watching Enngland carefully.

"Supposedly," England started, "this Voldemort is looking for a way to achieve immortality. Imagine myself going to offer help at this time, me, a nation who's more or less immortal?"

"Immortality?" France questioned, "Hell this guy is _crazy_, if only he knew what it's like to live as long as we do." he finished, shaking his head.

"What the hell, then you can't just go back there!" America exclaimed, "Dude what are you going to do? How ar-"

"But England," Canada's soft voice interrupted, "you look much better now. You're not pale anymore."

The 3 nations examined England and Canada's observation was right, no more pale skin and since he's been sleeping, the bags from his eyes have vanished.

England gave a sort of 'thank you' look to Canada for the change in topic. Canada nodded in response.

England opened his mouth then closed it. He _did_ feel better. No matter how much sleep he had before this, he'd always still wake up feel unrested and sick. His heart, England placed his hand on his heart, his heart wasn't hurting so much now.

England glanced up, "How long have I been sleeping?"

France answered this once, with distaste, "Four days! Do you know what it's like having you 3 idiots in my house for so long?!"

England clenched his teeth; "Well I never wanted to come to your place for the World Meeting anyways frog! Bloody hell I'm getting out of here!"

England through the covers off, knocking America onto the floor, "Wait a minute England! You shouldn't move arou-"

France interjected, "Go get his clothes, Alfred, Mathieu. _Now_."

America looked at France, mouth agape. Canada nodded and grabbed his brother's upper arm.

"W-Wait a minute Canada!" but his cries were in vain as the Canadian dragged his brother out the door. Turning his head, Canada gave a small smile and closed the door behind them.

France sighed and picked up the fallen chair, placing it next to the bedside and sitting down.

"America's right, what are you going to do?" France's words were serious as he looked at the English man sternly.

England shook his head, "I have no idea but for some reason, my heart doesn't hurt so much now. As if all the murders stopped at once. There was a never break from the pain but now it's gone."

France blinked in surprise. "Really? These past four days you looked to be in terrible pain but, like Mathieu mentioned, you look much better."

"Four days huh? So that means that-"

"Yeah, it's the morning of November 1st. When I came to check on you last night, you looked, relieved." France spoke.

England raised his brows, "Relieved?"

France nodded, his hair swaying with his movement, "Does that mean the killing sprees stopped? Well, for now, at least?"

"I-" he was interrupted from a _tak tak tak_ at the window to his right. Both nations looked to see a muddy brown owl looking at them, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his beak.

"That's your bird right England?"

England nodded and opened the window, letting his bird hop in, drop the rolled up newspaper, and fly out. England grabbed the crumpled paper and unrolled it. As he read the headlines, his mouth dropped in surprise, his forest green eyes widening as he quickly read over the next few lines.

"I think I just found out what stopped him." England muttered under his breath.

"What?" the Frenchman questioned leaning over to see what was on the paper. After he read the headline his mouth too dropped in shock.

"Voldemort has been defeated?! What on Earth, _how_?" France exclaimed.

"By a kid, a _baby_ named, Harry Potter?" England furrowed his brows after stating this. France's face twisted into confusion.

"How did a _baby_ stop him?"

England kept his eyes on the paper, clutching it tighter in his hand before throwing it on the floor.

"The only way to find out, " he started, pushing himself up, "is to go to his home and find out how."

France looked to him for a moment before shaking his head, a small smile playing on his lips, "I guess there's no stopping you huh? However," France stood up too, "_I'll_ be coming too."

"What the- _why_?" England asked, "Like hell I'd want you anywhere near me!"

France's smile faltered, anger flashing behind his brilliant blue eyes, "Excuse me do you think you some Death Eaters will be killing you? No that job is for _me_ you moron."

England smiled too eyeing the French man, "You _wish_ you disgusting frog."

But deep, deep, _deep_ down, England was a little (_LITTLE_)grateful he wouldn't be alone because as much as he hates to admit it, France was right. He shouldn't be alone if by any possible chance there were Death Eaters or, even by some miraculous chance, _Voldemort_ was still alive. All hell would break loose if Voldemort and him crossed paths. Literally.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

So wow um, here's chapter 2! I hope it sounds decent enough since writing is bit harder for me but doesn't mean I don't enjoy it! But yea this is mainly me wanting a crossover of England in Harry Potter because just think how _badly_ the deaths and everything going on in the magical world affected him so ahah I love Harry Potter so much too so yea.

Thank you for reading and ciao for now~


	3. Chapter 3

England was still on the fence of having France join him on his quest to find this Harry Potter baby and get answers to what happened. There were some pros and cons to having the annoying perverted frog with him (And can he just say the con list is _much_ longer than the pro list).

Some pros: England had another wizard with him that he could _possibly_ rely on in case of an emergency. The second pro is that 2 heads are better than one (but it's obvious who the brains of the duo is). The third pro… He'd been thinking of a third one during the plane ride over but has yet to think of one.

Some cons: _God_ the list went on and he'd rather not start off his quest in a nasty mood having to think about their long history together. England shivered at the thought.

France looked at him then back out the open window of the cab. What he did next was just unbelievable.

France stuck his upper torso out the window and began shouting, "Hello ladies~! Francis is here to save you all with the power of _love_~!"

But if it was France it wasn't really _that_ unbelievable.

"Francis you idiotic frog!" England grabbed the man and pulled him back in.

"Ah, it's always raining and wet here! Geez this is why I never come here!" Francis said with displeasure, shaking his head to dry off.

"_Perfect_." England gritted out, "You're never wanted here anyways!"

"Stop shouting Arthur we're in a car you know. You're going to make the driver crash!"

"Crash?! Look at you sticking out your body out of a moving vehicle you imbecile! You're the one who's going to kill us all!"

_SCREECH_

The two nations jolted forward then back onto the seats. At least one of them was wearing a seatbelt or else he would've gotten more injured, like France. England smirked looking over France who had somehow fallen headfirst to the floor of the cabbie.

"Serves you right Francis."

The driver turned to the two of them, bushy brows knitted together tightly and eyes locked on England, "Both of you ou' of me cab NOW!"

England clenched his teeth and fumbled with his seatbelt, "Great job Francis look what you did!"

Francis maneuvered his way upright, "MY fault?! You're constant _yelling_ was what made him mad!"

"Why you lit-"

"OU' NOW!"

The blondes looked at the driver before muttering under their breaths and complying obediently with his command.

After shutting the doors not so gently, the cab sped off in the rain.

"Heh, as if we're the ones going to make him crash. He's going to kill himself driving like that in this rain! These are you're people not mine!"

England turned to him, "Well we would have gotten there sooner if we apparated like I wanted but no you didn't want to! Complaining about it making you sick and messing up your hair!"

Thank goodness there wasn't anybody around on this country road to hear their fight. Spouting out things like apparating and spells and all isn't something muggles should hear really.

"It does! I've never liked it to begin with and my hair shouldn't have to go through that torture!"

"Blimey you're over a thousand years old and if apparating still makes you sick then what does that say about you hmm?"

"Look I don't want to start throwing punches because this is a new suit an-"

England growled and grabbed the man's arm and leaving the dirty old road with a loud _CRACK_.

The nation's landed forcefully feet first on the ground in a whole new terrain. Quaint buildings lined the empty cobbled street. It was evening so several homes had lights on already, but all in all it was really quiet.

"Arthur you stupid man! You ruined my hair!"

England replied with a roll of his eyes and let go of the French man.

Godric's Hollow, a town occupied by a lot of magical families but still muggle oriented. The home of the now famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and his family, that had been murdered 3 days prior to the nations visit. Obviously visiting so quickly wasn't a bright idea but England needed to do his own investigation of what happened that night. How did a boy stop a powerful dark wizard? A _baby_?

England looked around him before choosing the alley nearest them to go down.

"Oi don't walk to fast!"

England hushed him, "Not too loud you idiot! There could still be Death Eaters around or Ministry people."

France huffed, "Well then lets use magic to make ourselves invisible and not alert people hm? We do know more ancient and powerful spells than them so wouldn't that be a good idea?"

England wanted to facepalm himself. France was right, and France knew he was right too because his aure changed to a cocky one.

"Fine," England gritted between his teeth, "We'll do it but let's hurry up so I don't have to hear your complaining for much longer."

France shrugged and smiled, before muttering indecipherable words that England repeated. Anyone who looked in their direction wouldn't notice a thing besides the expected scenery. And modern charms couldn't detect this ancient magic since it's been long forgotten.

Except..

.. a curious pair of eyes noticed these two men prior to their disappearance from view. Curious, the unknown figure quietly followed them, knowing where they would be headed.

Passing the church and town square, France and England, sloshing quietly through the wet streets until they finally reached the Potter house. Upon reaching the house France's mouth opened slightly and England drew in a sharp breath.

The house, on the first story, was intact but looking up, the second story had been almost completely destroyed. Bloody hell.

"A _baby_ stopped Voldemort and that _baby_ did this?" France voiced incredulously.

The two cautiously walked to the gate until stopping to look at the gate. To muggle eyes they wouldn't notice anything different about this gate but to the magic eyes, they could see the markings on the gate. Someone had tampered with the gate so that whenever someone, of magic, looked at it a slate would appear and on the slate, people had written their condolences to the Potters.

"No time to read this France, let's get inside quickly."

Francis nodded in agreement and followed the British man up the path and into the house. Thanks to their ancient magic, the current charms didn't signal off the intruders and England and France were able to maneuver their way in the house easily.

England glanced around the living area, nothing was out of place but looking towards the stairs, the chaos began. Wooden pieces had fallen down the stairs and he knew once they got to the top there'd be even more chaos.

France and England cautiously made their way up, avoiding broken wood and steps. At the top of the stairs, the wall to the right had been blown out. England walked carefully over the fallen beam and towards a doorframe that stood leading to a blue room.

As they reach the room England widened his eyes. _This is the room_, he thought, _the room where he saw the red haired lady and-_

England looked around the room. It was the exact same room from his dream, his nightmare. So that means…

"England what is it?"

England didn't look at France immediately but when he did, he spoke, "I've seen this room before."

France didn't understand, "What do you mean Arthur?"

England looked at the floor, at the spot where the woman laid, "The night when the Potters were murdered, I was there. I-It was like I was looking through a child's eyes."

France's eyes grew in size, "Y-You mean that you saw what that Potter boy saw?"

England nodded his head, "Yea, I saw his mother on the floor right here," he pointed to the spot, "And then looked up, I saw a hand holding a wand. Then I heard the killing curse spoken and green light."

France was to shocked for words.

"After the green light I woke up. I woke up at your house."

France opened his mouth but closed it and repeated the cycle a few times trying to construct a sentence.

"Wait wait, if you saw what that Potter kid saw then shouldn't you know _how_ he survived and defeated Voldemort?"

England shook his head, "No that's all I saw, I didn't see what happened after the green light so I can't tell for sure what happened."

France pushed his bangs back sighing deeply. It was very well possible England saw what the Potter kid saw. Nations sometimes having dreams and having the experience of their people _did_ happen. But it didn't happen often so when it did, it was usually something of _major_ importance.

"If only you saw what happened after," France murmured.

England clenched his fist tightly for a moment before unclenching them.

"Lets hurry and get out of here France."

France eyed the English man and nodded in response, following in suit behind him. It was obvious that England was frustrated, annoyed and angry that he didn't know what happened after the killing curse. Angry that he, a nation, couldn't do anything stop Voldemort himself. Killings that went on at his own place, but to protect his people, he has to hide himself from them.

After making sure they were a few streets over and out of sight, the two released the ancient spells and headed back to the direction they came from. Minutes of silence passed between them until tapping of soft footsteps could be heard behind them.

"Arthur."

"I hear Francis."

The two kept their pace and as soon as they turned the corner they stopped and looked behind them.

The unknown figure almost collided into the nations but put a hand on their chest and hunched over out of breath.

"Goodness that startled me!"

It was the voice of an old man, and by the looks of it, the figure _was_ an old man. His long white beard was a dead give away to that.

"Who are you?"

The man stood straight and looked at the blondes. Half moon spectacles sat upon a crooked nose and twinkling blue eyes.

"Ah pardon me but my name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He smiled cheerfully at the two seemingly young men.

England and France blinked and raised their brows in astonishment. What was a headmaster doing here?

"And I'd like to ask something if you will," Albus asked, "but quietly where we won't be heard."

England and France looked to each other, and back to the headmaster.

"Ok," England said, "you can ask us anything but the condition is it will be at my home."

Albus softly laughed, "Of course of course. I understand that having an old man following you and claiming to be a headmaster is suspicious. Please lead the way…" he paused looking at England.

"Arthur."

"And my name is Francis."

Albus lowered his head in acknowledgement to both men.

"Arthur, Francis, please lead the way."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ok so yea I remembered that in Deathly hallows Part 2 when looking at Snape's memory the house was intact but I'd like to think that when a curse, a killing curse at that, backfires against a powerful wizard it'd cause destruction right? So yea that's why it's all broken and shit. And I think I just described Dumbledore like it is in the books ha i need to read the books again

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore was a very nice man who had no qualms or complaints about the 3 of them driving to England's home (one of his homes) in Plymouth by cab. Albus knew it'd be more reassuring to the young men if he complied and England was a little grateful for this, a little.

After in silence for what seemed like forever, with Albus smiling cheerfully between the two wary nations and a cabby driver who kept shooting frightened glances at his passengers, they finally reached Plymouth. The rain here slowed down to a drizzle, making it more visible to see the home of the thick-browed man that sat in between homes on the street across from the water.

"My home is on the top level."

France gave England a smile, "Oh, what a surprisingly nice place you have here, Arthur."

England smiled too, "I'm glad you can agree that it's nicer than your place."

"If only your neighbors didn't get sick from the smell of your cooking."

"What was that you disgusting frog?!"

"Oh nothing, I'm just saying what everybody else is thinking."

"Ah excuse me gentlemen," Albus interrupted, waving his hands, "If we may, could this argument be for another time?"

England and France pulled back and both gave a loud _huff_.

_Hopefully there won't be anymore arguments_, Albus thought. But he chuckled quietly at the thought of another argument between them. It was nice to see people so lively.

After settling down, and Albus breaking up another fight about the 'horrible' choice of interior decoration as Francis had put it, tea was served.

"So, Headmaster Dumbledore was it?"

"Please, call me Albus."

England nodded, "Albus, what questions do you have?"

Albus shot his hand up, "Wait, before I start I'd like to show you evidence that I am not lying about who I am."

France and England blinked. Albus reached inside his robe and pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet that was ripped and withered. Albus opened the paper and stretched his arm to give it to England. As soon as England grabbed it he glanced over the headlines and looked at the moving picture below it.

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE APOINTTED AS NEW HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

The picture was of Albus with a much shorter beard and smiling brightly as he was shaking hands with the then Minister of Magic.

"And how come you didn't know this Arthur hmm?"

England folded the paper and smacked France in the face with it, "Well you dolt if you happened to look at the date it was _1956_ that he became Headmaster. We weren't even born then!"

"Ah but I have reason to believe that you were very much alive in 1956." Albus said.

England stiffened and France did too after hearing that. The two both looked at the still smiling headmaster.

"What makes you say that Albus?"

Albus set his teacup on the table gently before speaking, "To start with, I was born in 1892," France's mouth hung open and England knew he was thinking _He's so old_, "and now that I am 101 I like to think back and look at my memories. Throughout my life people have come and go. But there was one person that always seemed to show up. Like during both World Wars for instance."

England sat very still.

"During the first one, I watched the young men signing up for the army. I noticed one man with ruffled messy hair, dark thick brows and green eyes joining."

England quietly took a breath before speaking, "Well Albus that could have been anyone."

Albus nodded before speaking again, "Very true but to think that years later during World War II I would see that very same man helping search and rescue during the blitz. And yet, he looked like he hadn't aged a day! It's really peculiar don't you agree?"

_Damn these wizards with long life spans!_ England thought.

France was next to speak, "But Albus couldn't that have been brothers who looked alike and joined the war?"

Albus nodded as he carefully held his gaze on the French man. "It's very possible indeed but I have a friend who quite often speaks about a friend from his youth and that he sees that same friend throughout his life who hasn't aged a bit. This friend of mine lived in France growing up."

It was France's turn to freeze in his seat while England looked at him with his eyes at him, his eyes raging with fire because he _knew_ whom Albus was talking about.

"My friend is Nicolas Flamel and Francis, he talks about you often. He is right now 654 years old and his physical appearance does indeed reflect the age that he is, though he does have his mobility and spark in his eye. His friend that he grew up with in his young 20s, lost connection with, but later saw from a distance again and again up until and never aged a day. Nicolas has said he still looks to be the same lively 26 year old when he first met him!"

From England's angle, it looked as though France had even stopped breathing at this point

"His name was Francis Bonnefoy. Might I ask why you resemble him Francis?"

France clenched his armrest and England mimicked his action.

_Damn these old wizards!_

Dumbledore cleared his throat before beginning another longwinded conversation.

"There's an old rumor that's been around for centuries about young men and women who always show up during wars and battles. There are even some books with mentions of the same people who are noticed walking streets or in the government or in war that have been sighted before. Hundreds of years before. But those are what some folks might call 'supernatural' and pay no mind to it but after listening to Nicolas mention this I couldn't help but believe him when I saw you, Arthur, with my very own eyes during both World Wars."

The personified nation known as England has been in many ruts before but this was one who didn't like very much. Being interrogated about your true identity hat could very well be dangerous to anyone wasn't exactly his cup of tea. If they weren't careful about their conversation, someone could overhear it.

It was now England's turn to clear his throat.

"Albus, I don't think we should speak about such things without first placing charms in the room, to make sure no hears us."

Albus picked his tea up and took a sip and smiled, "Don't worry, I already placed some in while you two were arguing about the furniture arrangement."

And he was right; England and France could sense the charms that encompassed the room. Thank _God_.

England sighed and sunk into his chair, rubbing his head head, "Bloody hell, and I bet we can't erase your memory because you're a powerful wizard if you're a headmaster huh?"

Albus chuckled lightly. "I'd like to assume I am yes."

England sighed but blinked in surprise, why hadn't he remembered that name before!

"Now I remember you!" England exclaimed, "you're the bloke who duked it out with Gellert Grindlewald!"

Albus' smile vanished and France let out a noise of surprise, "Ah that's the guy who fought in that legendary battle?! Arthur you idiot why didn't you remember?!"

England looked to France, "His name was mentioned thousands of times throughout the magical world and even in your home too! Don't blame me for your forgetfulness you stupid frog!"

"Gentlemen," a stern voice interjected, "Please no more qualms."

The blondes turned to look at the non-smiling Dumbledore.

"Albus, what you really want to ask us is what we are right?" England asked the headmaster.

Albus nodded.

Very few people knew about the personified nations, and it was better that way. But now that Albus Dumbledore has gathered his evidence and presented it to them there really was no turning back. Fights were unnecessary, _especially_ if it was against Albus Dumbledore, the guy who had what is considered to be the most legendary wizarding duel ever.

England looked to France who nodded, knowing very well what England was thinking.

"This is a secret that is to be kept and that no one, I repeat, _no one_ must know about."

"I understand." Albus spoke confidently, folding his hands on his lap.

England breathed in and sighed shakily before he spoke.

"Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy are just our human names, names that we use in conversation with you normal people."

France took up speaking next, "Damn that Nicolas Flamel for his discovery of the philosopher's stone!"

England smacked France's head. "Not now frog!"

Under his breath, England muttered incoherent curse directed towards the Frenchman. England returned his gaze to Albus.

"Our real names you already know, because my real name is England and this perverted frog here is France."

Albus widened his eyes hearing this.

"We're what you call personified nations."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Womp womp there it is ha fucking losers not be able to keep themselves hidden ha ha i miss harry potter

I hope the grammar is good and that there's less spelling errors but wow so many reviews already and that's exciting and idk what else to say and wow thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

"Personified nations.." Albus hummed to himself, leaning back in his chair.

"So you two were born when the countries were born.. And the reason you're spotted so many times… Ah yes so then-" Albus thought aloud in murmurs, France and England watching him closely.

"-Yet you look so young in age. Though you're quite old, older than me even. Ah I wish I had could look young too." Albus chuckled.

"It's not really fun living so long." France muttered darkly.

"I know. One lifetime is fast, but one century is slow. Slow and painful." Albus agreed solemnly.

A moment of silence fell upon the trio until England spoke up, "Only people in high governments know about us, both muggle and magical."

Albus nodded, "Indeed but I'm assuming you're not connected with our Ministry of Magic right Arth- England? I haven't heard anything about you, though I'd believe I wouldn't hear anything about you if it is a big secret."

England shook his head, "No you're right, and call me Arthur please. It's nice to feel human, hearing that name." England said, saying the last part softly.

France looked at England, knowing all too well what he meant by that.

"After World War II," England started, shifting in his chair, "I broke off my ties with the magical world because the muggles needed more help with repairs both physically and economically and if I didn't cut off my ties then there'd be constant harassment for not helping the magic world. They don't need as much help."

"Were you the only one to break bonds with the magic world Arthur? Why not you too Francis?"

Francis made a noise of displeasure, "I can't since my boss is scary! And his boss was dying at the time so it made it easier for him. All those witches and wizards at home kept harassing me to help!"

England smiled, "It was a lovely time seeing your displeasure France."

France folded his arms and muttered to himself. England chuckled and looked at Albus.

"Looking back I don't regret that, obliviating people's memories and erasing my name and everything from the records since we now, or had, a manic mass murderer on the loose."

Albus eyed England and spoke darkly, "He is still alive."

England flew his eyes to Albus then to France who's expression was the same: shock and disbelief.

"_Alive_? _How_? Didn't that baby stop him?" France asked hurriedly.

England gripped his chair hard that his knuckles turned white. "How?! What evidence do you have?"

Albus watched the two as he carefully removed his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief, "That boy, Harry Potter, is my evidence."

He placed the spectacles on his crooked nose and spoke, "You know very well as I do that not once has a Killing Curse ever rebounded. I'm sure in your long life spans you've used it much and know very well it does not simply happen. It is impossible, until it was proven wrong to everyone."

England gritted his teeth. He was right, and he _hated_ that he was right.

"How did he survive the killing curse anyways Albus?" France questioned.

Albus gave a small smile, "_Love_. Love and sacrifice protected him."

England raised his brows, remembering back to his dream, seeing the mother lying on the floor.

"His mother's love and sacrifice protected him." He murmured.

Albus nodded, "It did, love strong enough to stop Voldemort."

"Ok but if it rebounded, wouldn't it have killed Voldemort?" France inquired.

"Not quite, I believe it destroyed his body, but a piece of his soul latched onto young Harry Potter."

England tilted his head, "A piece of his soul?"

"Yes." Albus lifted a pointed finger above his right eye on his forehead, "A lightning shaped scar was produced on his forehead after the aftermath of that night. It was not there before."

"A piece of his soul? _Fuck_." England exclaimed.

England looked at his lap.

"_God_. Just, just, Bloody _Hell_ I just-"

England stood up and was just about ready to punch the wall. He rubbed his hand through his hair and almost yanked it out.

"England, go to the balcony." France spoke sternly.

"The damn bastard is still _alive_?! I swear to _God_ if I ever see his face **_I_** **_will_** **_kill him_**_." _England growled menacingly. A shiver went down Albus' spine as he watched the centuries old nation curse Voldemort, knowing that his death threats were no joke.

"England." France said louder and just as sternly.

"Don't you fucking try and tell me what to do right now _France_ bec-"

France stood up and grabbed England forcefully by the collar, pulling England's raging face to his own. Blue eyes met green ones as France held his gaze firmly.

"Balcony, _now_."

A moment or two passed with England clenching and unclenching his fists until France let go, England muttering and stomping towards the balcony, opening and closing the sliding door recklessly. Outside, England kicked over the small lounge chair and yelling curses at the sky until he finally sat down on the floor. Good thing the rain had stopped.

France straightened his shirt before sitting back down in his chair, Albus, who had watched England with an indiscernible look, looked to the French man who sipped some tea.

"He'll be back in soon Albus." France spoke. Albus nodded in response.

France sets down his saucer, breathed in, and started speaking, "Every day, every second, us nations feel a pricking in our hearts." France softly held his hand to his chest. "This pricking is our people, dying. It never stops. It never lessens, but it does get worse during trying times."

"When wars and disease plague us, the pricking gets _worse_. It affects our bodies. Anything can happen during these times, usually we cough up blood; lose sleep or anything else imaginable. But when it's tied to the magical world-"

"-Its even worse than if it were with the muggle world, correct?"

France gave a short nod. "Yes, and even mass murders don't hurt as much but if it's caused by the magical world, well, we'd usually be in bed for weeks."

"I understand. If it's like that, was Arthur-"

France shook his head, "From what I know, England was still up and working, I guess his current boss doesn't really like hearing about magic and such so he was ignoring England's condition. When England started skipping out on World Meeting's I heard his boss was lashing him out for it."

"World Meetings?"

France waved his hand, "It's just us nations gathering and talking about problems. But it always ends with arguing and someone passing out from England's horrible cooking."

"Fuck you France." England stated loudly as he walked back in and sat in his chair again.

"Glad you could join us _monsieur_."

"Better shut your mouth frog because since I am no longer coughing up blood and collapsing unconscious I _will_ break your jaw."

"Oh really? I think you still owe me for sleeping at my house the other day and for me having to take care of you, _oui_?"

England was about to retort but shut his mouth, _fuck_ France was right. France was now smirking at the frowning English man.

Oh how he _loathed_ owing France _anything_.

England sighed heavily at the thought of having to pay back France somehow.

Albus chuckled softly as he watched the nations bicker.

"Anyways, Albus," England started, trying his best to push the thought to the back of his mind, "since Harry Potter's parents are dead, who will be taking care of him?"

"Ah, good question." Albus stated. "The boy will be living with his Aunt and Uncle from his mother's side, in Little Whinging."

"I see."

"Yes and he will be living there until he is of age, then he will attend Hogwarts."

"Are you going to teach him how to fight in case Voldemort comes back Albus?" England asked, not really liking the idea of a boy having to fight against a dark wizard.

"Yes, it is imperative that he is the one to destroy Voldemort as stated in the prophecy."

France and England were shocked hearing that. "Prophecy?"

Albus closed his eyes and nodded, "Yes prophecy foretold by our Divination teacher last year. It is the reason why he went after Harry Potter, but he only heard _part_ of the prophecy from one of his spies."

He opened his twinkling eyes and looked at the blondes, "The prophecy states, in simple words, that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord is born to those who have thrice defied him 3 times, and born as the seventh month dies. The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal but will have power Voldemort does not know and either must die at the hand of the other. For neither can live while the other survives."

England mulled over this new information. "So Harry Potter's parents defied Voldemort 3 times, and he was born at the end of July?"

"Yes, July 31st of last year."

England gritted his teeth. "How can you know this isn't some farce prophecy by a mad person? It could be pure coincidence."

"I know it to be true because the one who foretold it, Sybill Trelawney, is the great-great-granddaughter of the famous Seer Cassandra Trelawney. Believe me, I too believed it to be a joke until she began having a real trance and telling the prophecy. Now she is working at Hogwarts because she needs protection."

France sighed while England mouthed a _fuck_.

Minutes passed in silence, everyone thinking deeply.

"So," England broke the silence, "the only thing we can do is wait until he returns hmm?"

"Yes." Albus firmly agreed. The white-bearded man stood up patted down his robes, eyeing the blondes. "And I believe I have taken more than enough of your time. I'm glad we talked and sorted out a few things, Arthur, Francis."

England stood up too and stuck his hand out, "Yes we did clear up some things. Thank you Albus."

Albus smiled and shook his hand, gave a short bow to Francis who smiled back, and headed towards the door. His hand was inches away from the knob before he seemed to have remembered something and turned to England.

"Things will probably come downhill again when Harry Potter is older, and when the time comes, I'd like for you to be of assistance, if you will, Arthur."

England nodded, "Of course, Albus."

"Wonderful. I will send my owl but until then Francis," Albus smiled to him, "and Arthur." Albus smiled but something was hidden behind that smile.

With that, the headmaster of Hogwarts left the home of the English nation.

England grunted and fell into his chair, rubbing his hands down his face.

"Bloody hell why me?"

France rolled his sleeves and leaned back. "Who knows? Maybe this is just some twisted story that pulled you in. Hey maybe even _we _aren't even real."

England rolled his head lazily to France, "Now that's just ridiculous. Of course we're real. We're not some made up story that some girl is writing right now just for kicks."

France chuckled and closed his eyes, "Oho probably not. If it was one what would say to the writer hm?"

"'Go to hell for writing a horrible story.'"

"My what a rude thing to say Arthur."

"Fuck off."

France smiled, "I actually will be spending the night here since you do owe me. So no I won't fuck off."

England didn't even respond because this whole day had been too much and drained him of his energy and thoughts were swirling about in his head about Harry Potter and Voldemort and souls and love and prophecies. It was too much that England decided to push it all back and sleep. Sleep is what he needed and wanted right now.

If this weren't so complicated with prophecies and shit he would have gone and killed the bastard himself.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Yea but you're not part of the prophecy so you can't kill him ha loser.

I hope you enjoyed it and I hope there aren't as many typors! And thank you for the reviews of love~ Thank you for reading !


	6. Chapter 6

_But wait_, England paused from his cooking, wooden spoon in hand and bowl tucked under his arm, _who the hell is Voldemort? Who is that bastard?_

"Ah crap! Why didn't I ask Albus that yesterday?!"

After Albus had gone, France and England fell into a deep sleep in their chairs but by morning, France was gone and he left only a note.

_Taking care of you for four days means that you're still indebted to me 3 more times. Ciao my lovely idiot~_

England sighed thinking about the note. He sighed again thinking about his stupidity for not asking Albus who the bloody hell Voldemort was. He had to be _someone_, Voldemort was obviously not his birth name. Who'd name their child that? Not England. Unless you'd want your child getting beat up in the park, sure.

England frowned and continued his stirring and started mulling over who Voldemort could be. He had to have been someone before becoming a mass murderer. And if he's been looking for a way to achieve immortality he'd most likely had dabbled in the dark arts. But when did he start looking in the dark arts? Why? From what England could tell, Voldemort only wanted a 'pure' world if he chased after muggles and half witches and wizards. The bloody nerve of that guy.

But how would England go about looking for answers? He can't just walk into the Ministry of Magic. Breaking in would be best and best _alone_ (without a frog complaining about his every move). England nodded his head slowly, yes breaking in would need planning but it's a good thing he knew the place like the back of his hand. He could easily conjure up some old charms to hide him and not be detected. The only problem was breaking into records because security is on even higher alert there. Well, good thing he knows the passwords and all be-

_TAK TAK TAK_

England stuck his head around the tiny wall blocking his view of the living area. At the balcony sitting on the small lawn chair was a great horned owl with large yellow eyes, tilting its head in a twitchy manner watching the blonde. In it's beak was an envelope. England didn't recognize the owl. Who's was it?

Setting his cooking ware down, England wiped his hands on his pink apron and walked to the door, opening gently and sticking his hand out in the chilly morning air. The bird dropped the envelope in his hand, hooted at him and flew off, a great gust of wind blowing into England's home when doing so.

After he closed the sliding door, England leaned against the nearest chair and looked at the front. Black ink writing, that was beautifully written, spelled out _Arthur Kirkland_ on the front. The blonde turned it over and gently tore open the envelope and taking out the folded letter.

_Arthur,_

_I hope you liked my owl; he's a gentle creature who talks a lot. His company is well received and I enjoy having him hoot away in my office. Much more enjoyable than having the headmasters in the portraits complaining to one another, and me._

_As for the purpose of this letter, I seemed to have forgotten some important information regarding Voldemort. This letter will briefly discuss some details of him._

_To start, his true name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom was born and raised at Wool's Orphanage in London. When I came to visit him for the first time and talk about his invitation to Hogwarts, I knew something was off. Our meeting was peculiar. I could tell just from looking at him that he had a dark side, someone that enjoyed using his abilities to hurt people. The orphanage feared him even. I had no idea that I had met a soon to be dark wizard at that moment._

_During his time as a student, I was professor of Transfiguration. He was a prefect and seen as the perfect model, all the students and teachers were charmed by his false act but knowing that he had more sinister thoughts, I watched him closely. Tom knew I was suspicious of him from the very moment we had met. He despised me, but feared me too. _

_I'm sure you're aware of the attacks that happened in 1943, when a beast rampaged and injured many students until finally killing Myrtle from Ravenclaw. The beast was a basilisk that only the heir of Slytherin could open. That heir is Tom Riddle, form his mother's side. (If you remember the Gaunts then you'll know)_

_Tom continued his studies and gathered 'friends' in his years and after Hogwarts, he came back requesting to the then Headmaster Armando Dippet for a teaching position for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was denied this and disappeared. I highly assume during his days in hiding he continued his study of the dark arts. _

_But one day Tom came back to Hogwarts years later, during which I have become Headmaster, and once again asked for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts. His appearance had drastically changed by then, he was distorted and he had started calling himself Lord Voldemort. I denied him of it because I still had my suspicions about him. After hearing my denial he left and I never saw from him again._

_I know he's been looking for a way to gain immortality but I have yet to discover what he's using if this magic is dark enough to change his appearance so much. _

_I hope, Arthur, that young Mister Potter can defeat Tom Riddle since I didn't stop him when I had the chance._

_ Albus Dumbledore_

England stopped himself from smacking his forehead. And he thought his best option was to break into the Ministry of Magic. _Idiot_.

_But_, England thought, _now I know who he was before he became Voldemort._

Now he had more evidence to observe and think about.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. Related to the deceased Marvolo Gaunt, that pure blood bigot who's the descendant of Salazar Slytherin. But he and his son went to Azkaban for attacking Ministry personnel and there was only that girl left if he remembered correctly. Merope Gaunt. He remembered the Ministry workers talking about her being attacked from her own father and brother. So where did she go after?

England rubbed his chin in thought. Riddle, wasn't that the name of that rich family that lived over in Little Hangleton in the early 1900s, murdered by Morfin Gaunt in 1943? Oh, England mouthed, so Tom Riddle was the son of _that_ Riddle family. He heard rumors of the Riddle family, hearing of their snobbish stuck up behavior towards anyone of a lesser class. If that was true, how did Merope manage to get Tom Riddle Sr. to fall for her? He wouldn't have fallen for her unless…

"A Love Potion." The nation murmured aloud. It was the only possible way for Merope to marry a snob like that, poor girl. She wouldn't use the Imperius curse on the man she loved. If this was true, could it be Tom Riddle was conceived under a Love Potion? It's most probable he was conceived under it, explaining his lack of friends or feelings of affection towards anyone. Ah…

He'd only have negative feelings towards the world and if he's under the belief, like that of Salazar Slytherin, that anyone who isn't pureblood should die; it'd explain his actions. God we don't need another idiot trying to eradicate people for his ideals, damn hypocrite.

And England couldn't do anything about it. Except sit in his chair and wait. Wait for Harry Potter to grow up. For him to study at Hogwarts, to watch over him. And wait until Volde- no, Tom Riddle, to come back and try and finish what he started. England was not going to call that snake bastard with that alias of his and give him the satisfaction of it.

"Oh just you _wait_ Tom Riddle." England muttered darkly, "Even though it's stated in the prophecy that Harry is the one who needs to kill you, I sure as hell will _gladly_ help end you, _painfully_."

England smiled menacingly, remembering his days long ago when killing was an every day thing, when he freely used the killing curse, remembering his days as a pirate, blood splattering everywhere, never stopping.

Tom Riddle is damn _lucky_ that England couldn't be the one to kill him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Well this was short but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who likes background on characters and stuff so here we have some info on Tom RIddle before he became Voldemort. I wanted to add that another reason why he loathed muggles and muggle borns was because his father, Tom Riddle Sr. was stupid guy who abandoned his mother and him and went back to his prestigious life (its written that it could be another reason why he hates them so much). But I didn't want to drawl on too much about it but to keep it short, Tom killed Myrtle first (aka Moaning Myrtle in 1943 and I'm still disappointed J.K. Rowling never gave her a full name) making his first horcrux and then Tom killed his father, grandmother and grandfather that summer making his next horcrux and so on and so on

But yes I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter I'm uploading now~


	7. Chapter 7

Spetember 12, 1988

7 years have gone by since his first meeting with Albus Dumbledore. They converse by owl still but only as formal greetings. During these 7 years there have been no signs of Voldemort and England has felt so, _alive_ since his fall. He could breathe, walk and _smile_ again. These 7 years have been wonderful. But these years in between are only the eye of the storm. England knew that Tom Riddle will be back, and he's been waiting for him.

Harry Potter had been on his mind quite frequently over the years. England had heard no word about him, that being both good and bad. Good because if he hasn't heard about Harry Potter that means no one else has either, meaning his protection is still good. Bad because he still worried for the boy. Was he doing well? Good grades? No bullies? Was he-

England stopped and shook his head. No no Harry isn't his son. They grow up and are fine on their own. England's heart hurt, knowing all to well what happens when they grow up and become independent. It's best not to think about his little bro- America.

He pushed the depressing thoughts in the back of his mind and walked again, remembering what he had planned to do today.

He was going to visit, well not visit, but observe? No that didn't sound right either. Watch? Wait that just sounded creepy. Urgh, England was going to Little Whinging to check up on (much better) young Harry Potter. England was grateful for his status as a nation because he could check out school records and he just so happens to have found out where Harry attended school.

So if he could just pop by and see him then England will feel much better.

And it's a good thing he had found St. Grogory's Primary School really quick because he did not want to walk down streets for hours looking for it. But England hadn't factor time into it because when he looked at the school, there were no cars nor people in sight. The front gate had a lock on it.

Ah shit.

England mumbled to himself curses, he'd forgotten that in the afternoon class ended and students went home. Don't blame him! England was a nation he hadn't been to school himself (well once but that was like a thousand years ago).

England leaned his back against the fence and thought he _could _visit the Dursley's and come up with an excuse as to why he was there. Ah damn he really didn't want to meet them but if it was his only option to see Harry Potter then maybe-

"Oi where do you think yer going? Home isn't that way!"

Nasally laughs erupted after that comment and England turned his head to the source of it. A plump boy stood in the front of a group of boys that had shrewd nasty looking faces (they look 8 but have the face of high school bullies).

England followed their line of view, to a scrawny looking boy that had managed to climb up a tree. The boy held to the branch he sat on to hold his balance but looked down at the group of boys carefully.

"Suit yourself then! More food for us!" The boys erupted in laughter again and high fived each other, the center leader nodding at his own joke and walking away, his little boy pack following him. Are children really like this? England remembered the comment made by that frog years ago. '_These are you're people Arthur not mine!_. England gave a defeated sigh.

The little rat pack had left by now but the boy was still up in the tree. Why hadn't he come down? The boy's expression changed to a bit fearful. Can he not get down? He looked about 8 so it's a given he might be afraid of heights.

England walked to the tree and stood in view of the boy. "Hey kid do you need help getting down?"

The boy blinked and looked down at the speaker. The boy had messy jet-black hair, over sized clothing that hung off his scrawny body and broken, taped up round glasses that slipped down his dirty nose. But England raised his brows when he noticed that this boy had bright green eyes that looked like…

_… Lily Potter's eyes._

England had found Harry Potter, and to confirm it, England looked at his forehead, finding most definitely the lightning shaped scar over his right eye.

"I-I think I can get down on my own sir but thank you." Harry looked down below him, hoping to see if there were any branches that could he could step down on. But none were there. How did he get up there anyways?

England covered his mouth and smiled, he must have used magic accidentally.

"Are you sure you don't need help boy?" England asked again. He knew very well that Harry couldn't do it himself.

Harry realized his predicament as he kept looking around for any branches, but there were none.

"If you say so kid, bye." England called up, waving his hand slowly and turning slowly.

"A-Ah no wait mister! I actually do need help down if you don't mind."

England laughed quietly, and started walking back to the tree. He knew that the boy needed help; he couldn't help but tease him a little.

"I don't mind at all kid, but I'm going to have to ask you to do one thing."

England stopped below Harry and looked up, the boy looking down curiously, "Do what?"

England stretched out his arms, "You're going to have to jump down. You're a bit too high for me to reach. Don't worry I'll catch you, I promise."

Harry blinked and opened his mouth like he was going to say something but closed it, knowing that it was only option. After a moment Harry nodded.

England smiled. "Ok on 3 you jump into my arms alright? Ready?" Harry nodded again, leaning carefully on the branch.

"1, 2, and 3!"

Harry closed his eyes and pushed himself forward falling into a sturdy, warm chest.

"Hell I didn't think you'd put so much force in that push." England grunted as he lay on the ground with young Harry in his arms. His suit was now dirty and ruffled. Dry cleaning for this suit.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the blonde's face.

"I-I'm sorry sir! Are you alright?"

England smiled and leaned on his elbows, looking at the wide-eyed boy. "'Course I am, I was once a pirate you know. Pirates have been through _much_ worse."

Harry's small jaw dropped and he looked at the man incredulously. "Really?"

England chuckled and sat right up, Harry sitting in his lap.

"Really, but let's keep that a secret between us 'kay?" England whispered, placing a finger on his lips.

Harry nodded and he too placed a finger on his lips.

"But don't worry about me right now, how about you? Are you hurt anywhere?" England asked, looking the boy over. He was incredibly small and boney and England's green eyes had worry in them when he noticed it.

Young Harry shook his head and stood up. "No I'm alright. See?"

England furrowed his brows, being this small didn't look all right to him.

"You're right you don't have any scratches but why are you so small? Do those bullies take your food everyday?"

Harry closed his mouth and avoided England's questioning gaze. 'Sometimes but I do eat. I just have a, a…" Harry's face twisted into a thoughtful one trying to think of a word.

"High metabolism you mean? Don't hurt yourself thinking."

Harry nodded his head, "Yea that! My Aunt said I have a high metabolism."

_You're 8 and this is what you call a high metabolism?_ England thought, not accepting his answer.

"Ok then why are your clothes so big on you? Haven't you ever been shopping?"

Harry nodded his head yet again, "I have been but my Uncle says we shouldn't spend too much on clothes so these are my cousin's old clothes."

England stared blankly at the child, still not accepting his answers. Was he really doing well with this family? Is this his family's doing? But England couldn't intervene, if Harry were to find a new home it could alarm the Death Eaters and a whole mess would ensue.

England sighed and watched Harry who had found a leaf on the ground to be most very interesting. Watching his large eyes reminded him of…

"Could I have your glasses for a moment Harry?"

Harry blinked and looked at the man. "How do you know my name?"

"Oh, I heard those bullies say your name when they left." England could practically hear France laughing at him right now.

Harry's little brows furrowed, his green eyes confused. "Why do you want my glasses?"

England smiled, "Don't worry I'm not going to steal them or anything but wouldn't you like for them to be fixed and not falling down constantly?"

Harry's face quickly changed to surprise and wonder. "You can fix them?"

England nodded, "Of course I can."

Harry eagerly took his glasses off and handed it England's outstretched palm.

"Now this will only take a moment."

England moved his fingers gently across the mangled glasses, the bridge repairing and the little cracks disappearing after his touch. The glasses shook slightly before straightening out and unbending. They looked good as new.

England put the glasses on the boy's face and when Harry opened his eyes, he gasped. "Whoa!"

England threw his head back laughing, watching Harry turning his head looking at everything in amazement.

"Thank you so much mister! I can see everything so clearly now!"

England patted Harry's arm, "You're welcome Harry. I hoped I fixed them well enough, it's been a while since I've repaired glasses."

Harry shook his head. "No they're perfect! There aren't even any chips in the glass!"

England smiled wider, "That's good then. Gotta have a clear view of the world."

Harry nodded his head furiously then stopped abruptly. England raised a brow.

"What's the matter?"

"I have to go home." Harry answered shortly.

England mouthed an '_oh_' in response as Harry quickly grabbed for his rugged and torn bag that looked to have been thrown in the dirt.

England stood up patted himself down. "Let me walk you home. It's getting dark and I don't want you to, run into anybody weird." England thought about all the wizards and witches who'd want to handshake or get an autograph from Harry. He's famous in the magic world but here; he was just a normal kid. And England was pretty sure some stranger asking for autographs would freak out Harry.

Harry glanced up at the nation and tilted his head, "Like you?"

England patted his hair roughly, "Yup exactly like me."

"Ow my head!"

"Now lead the way Harry."

Harry nodded and started walking, with England just a step behind and gazing their surroundings carefully. He was on high alert.

Harry's school was thankfully close to his home, because walking just 4 streets with turns and twists, the two were walking down Privet Drive.

_Close at least_.

Harry's face changed a little to sadness. England noticed.

"What's wrong Harry?"

Harry shook his head as they walked up and stopped at a fairly ordinary and boring house, England assuming it to be Harry's.

"Nothing."

"Hmmm."

Harry faced England, "Thank you for helping me down that tree and for fixing my glasses sir. I really appreciate it."

England smiled and ruffled his already messy hair. "Happy to help. Just remember," England squatted down and leaned to Harry, "since you're small you can run fast and hide in tight spaces. Remember that for next time." England winked. Harry smiled and nodded.

"Harry Potter." A stern high-pitched voice crewed. England looked up at the front of the house to see a thin woman with crossed arms looking at the two.

"Where have you been? What have I told you about strangers?" The woman questioned looking between the two men with each word.

"Not to talk to strangers." Harry spoke monotonously as if this wasn't the first time he's heard this speech.

The woman marched forward and stopped abruptly next to Harry. She looked at him with her upturned lip and pinched face then to England. Her expression changed to a fake smile.

"I'm sorry about this but who are? Hopefully Harry wasn't bothering you."

England resisted his urge to sigh rudely and roll his eyes. She was one of _those_ people. A fake, 'perfect' person who loved anything ordinary and boring, just like herself. Explained why she matched her house. Was this Petunia Dursley?

"Some kids cornered him up a tree so I helped him down and since it was getting late I walked him home too if you don't mind ma'am."

"He's telling the truth Aunt Petunia. I needed help down a tree and he walked me home. Honest."

Petunia looked at Harry and gasped in shock. "What happened to your glasses? Why do they look new again?"

Harry nodded to England; "He fixed my glasses for me, almost like magic."

Petunia almost dropped her mouth in horror when she heard that. "Harry there is no such thing as magic. In the house _now_."

Harry breathed in and headed for the door, looking over his shoulder at England. "_Now_."

Harry scurried into the house.

Petunia returned her gaze to the blonde, fire burning in her eyes. "I don't know who you think you are but telling him about magic and flying people isn't something children should learn."

England stared at her coldly, "So you're going to deny him of who he is, Petunia Durlsey?"

She took a step back, "How do you know my name?"

England drawled on, "I also know your husband is Vernon Dursley, who works at a drill factory as a manager and you both have a son named Dudley Dursley who's a terribly bratty and dimwitted kid. I know that you, Petunia Dursley, or should I say, Petunia Evans, are related to Harry Potter through your sister, Lily, who died 8 years ago. I could go on if you'd like."

Petunia grabbed her heart and stared at the man in horror. "Who _are_ you?"

"If you're wondering if I spied on you, then the answer is no. I simply looked through your records. Though I also know about you through Albus Dumbledore. Now tell me, why are you not telling Harry Potter about who he really is? I'm sure Albus gave you a letter that had all the details."

Petunia's face turned to disgust. "Who he really is? You mean a _freak_ like my sister? And you're one of them aren't you?"

England's expression hadn't changed, "Oh a freak? I see so you're jealous, jealous that you're sister was favored above you. And you're _still_ jealous even after she's died and you're reminded constantly about it with Harry. Am I wrong?"

Petunia's glares weren't working on him.

"Having to be reminded of it daily because of that boy when I wanted to lead an ordinary life, do you think I want that? I never wanted this. He was dropped off here and forced upon us. We're only doing this because we had no other choice."

England took a step forward, towering over the woman. "And so you think ignoring him will rid you of the magic world? You think it'll just go away? You're just going to _ignore_ reality and continue to live in your little bubble, hoping that his magic would just vanish?" England watched her lower lip quiver. He pulled back from her and locked eyes with her.

"I'd like to speak with Harry again, Petunia."

The woman had straighten herself up and fixed her skirt, trying to put on a brave front. "No, I have no idea who you are and I will not let him have wild ideas about your kind."

"Did you know the way you're treating him could very much get you introuble with the goverment?" England questioned coldly, his stare sending a sharp shiver down her spine. "You should know that I am not connected to the magic government but I am of highest importance in the muggle government, you're government. So I suggest you send Harry out _now_."

Petunia jumped a little. She wavered for a moment before quickly muttering something about getting Harry. England unscrewed his face, not wanting to scare Harry when he came out.

Harry came out in a little run, Petunia watching from the front door.

"You wanted to see me sir?"

England smiled and knelt down to his height and started talking in a low voice. "I sure did Harry. Now I can't really be coming here as often as I'd like but if your Aunt, Uncle or that stupid cousin of yours Fudley," Harry smiled and giggled, "does or says something rude to or about you, just tell them I'll teleport over and do something _terrible_ to them."

Harry put a hand over his mouth a giggled more. Petunia frowned even more so when she saw Harry do that but she could not make out what the man was saying.

"And here," England reached in his pocket and grabbed a small wooden horse, discreetly placing it in Harry's oversized pants, "a little gift form me to you. I made it for my younger brother a long time ago but he's grown up so now I'm giving it to you. Whenever you're feeling down, you can talk to this horse, I'm pretty sure you'll have great conversations with it. Just don't tell your folks about that."

Harry nodded. England ruffled his hair. "You're a good kid Harry Potter, stay like that."

"Will I see you again mister…?"

England nodded, "We'll surely see each other again Harry. I'd say in a few years when you're life changes entirely."

The boy's grin spread across his face and he nodded happily.

"Now I think you should go inside before your Aunt's head explodes. Good night and good bye for now, Harry Potter."

England pushed his little body towards the door and he watched the boy hop to the door. Petunia had grabbed his shoulders and England could hear her interrogation.

"What did he tell you? Who is he?"

Harry looked at England then back to his aunt. "He said that if you're ever mean to me then he'd teleport over and do something _terrible_ to you."

Petunia gasped and pushed him inside. "There is no such thing as magic, go to your room!"

Harry waved quickly to England before running inside. Petunia glared at the unknown man who met her gaze equally, not at all threatened by her. She slammed the door shut.

_You sent him here Albus, to such a boring family that treats him horribly?_

England began his walk back to the main road.

Harry Potter's relatives really irked him. More than irked him. Maybe he should've turned the Fudley kid purple or something just to mess with them. Would be a good laugh for Harry. But that still won't make up for the past 8 years of horrible treatment and more to come. England's hands were tied; he couldn't help the Potter boy. He had to stay with family and sadly; the Dursley's were his only family. Even England wishes he could take care of the boy but it would be America all over again. And Harry would grow quicker and leave this world quicker. It'd be too painful.

England looked up at what little of the stars he could. Only 2 or 3 shone in the pitch-black sky.

If only he could see those beautiful bright lights again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ah little Harry was so adorable but Big Bro ENgland I love and~~

Ok thank you for reading! We'll see what happens next but until then, ciao for now~


	8. Chapter 8

3 years had passed since they met. It was a strange meeting Harry could say the least. Whenever he recalled the facts of his meeting with the man, he'd remember some miniscule detail that he didn't notice at the time.

For instance, how did the man know his name? The man said those bullies (Dudley and his lackeys) called out his name but they didn't. Dudley only said, "Home isn't that way!" and "More food for us!" So no, the man couldn't have figured it out from Dudley. But to be truthful, the whole magic world knew about him so the man probably knew to.

Why did the man say he was once a pirate? Was he just trying to cheer Harry up? Or does he work at fun place where he dresses up as a pirate so he just said that as if he were in character? Though…

… Since the man fixed his glasses with magic wouldn't that mean he'd most likely have a magic job? Not work at some muggle fun place as a pirate? So does that mean he was a magic pirate or…?

Another thing, why did the man question his condition? Did Harry look that thin back then? Now that he was at Hogwarts he's gotten thick a little (both to Ron and Hermione's delight). Well seeing a boney skinny boy wearing oversized clothing was a bit concerning so Harry pushed that aside.

The spell the man used to fix his glasses, Harry didn't hear him say any spells. It would be the same one Hermione used at the beginning of the year to fix his right? But thinking back, Harry had his eyes closed when he did it so maybe the he mouthed it. But when he opened them, it seemed like the man hadn't even pulled out a wand. How?

The walk home, Harry didn't even think twice about that. He was grateful the man walked him home since there were always witches and wizards coming up to him out of the blue when he was younger that frightened him. Walking with this man he felt incredibly, safe. Harry felt like the man wasn't afraid of, well, anything really.

But what really got him thinking was when Harry was shooed into the house the man and Aunt Petunia talked. Harry couldn't hear because of Dudley's loud whining but when Aunt Petunia came back inside, she was downright _scared_. Harry had never seen her look like that before.

"The man wants to talk with you. Go now and _don't_ be too long. _Now_." Is what Aunt Petunia said and Harry complied (happy he could talk with him even if it was just for one more minute).

The threat he made to his family was really uplifting and the ruffle the man gave Harry, it was nice. His hand was warm. And what he said, that he'd see Harry again in a few years when his life changes entirely well, Harry's been waiting, hoping to see the man again. He was the first person that ever made Harry feel special, so happy.

3 years had passed since they met. Harry's been waiting and hoping. He wants to see him again but what would he say to the man? It was a little nerve wrecking thinking of meeting him again.

Harry shook his head; ok this was getting _really_ confusing and making him nervous. Harry instead focused his attention on what the man looked like, in case he saw him again. Let's think.

Thick. Yes, his brows were _very_ thick. That much Harry _could_ remember clearly.

Blonde, blonde hair that made the suns rays dance against it.

Green, his eyes were a wonderful shade of green. Much like Harry's own green eyes but the man's, his were so much older and wiser. Those ancient looking eyes that held millions of stories that could never be told in a single lifetime. Those eyes were mesmerizing. Any one person wouldn't want to look away.

Warm. His chest when Harry leapt from the tree was incredibly warm. His hand when the man patted his back or ruffled his hair was warm. A warmth Harry had longed for but never received in Little Whinging until that man came. That warmth that felt like it was for Harry and Harry alone. Harry would sometimes wish for that warmth on cold nights, wish it'd return soon.

"Harry come on! You're first big game is today you can't miss out on your own game! The first ever first year on the quidditch team better move it!" said Ron, poking his head in to the sleeping area.

Harry jumped a little at the sudden interruption from his thoughts. Harry nodded and scrambled upright, putting away his clothes and items and putting away something in his trunk.

Harry quickly walked to Ron, plastering a nervous smile on his face. "Ok let's go Ron."

Ron shook his head and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Mate you can't be so worried! It'll be fine especially with you as Seeker!"

It actually did take some weight off of Harry's mind and Harry nodded.

"Ok if you say so Ron."

Ron pointed to himself, "I know so mate."

"Now let's hurry before Hermione's head blows, that girl is mental I tell you!"

The two descended down the stairs and Ron spoke up, "By the way Harry, what was that thing you were holding? It looked like some wooden horse or something. I see you holding it at night sometimes. Sorry that sounded weird."

Harry shook his head, replacing the nervousness in his smile to something of fondness.

"It's ok Ron. It was a gift that I got a few years back."

"Gift? But I thought you said your folks never give you anything?"

"No it wasn't from my family, it was from a man I met once."

Ron looked at the boy who lived and shook his head, "Harry that is the weirdest thing I've heard in a while. From a man you met once? Blimey the muggle world I will _never_ understand."

Harry laughed and the two left the common room. No, the magic world was more strange to Harry. So brilliant it was. And on the nights when Harry was alone with his thoughts, he'd pull out the horse and talked to it (quietly so the other boys wouldn't hear). And just like that man said, Harry always felt better when talking with the wooden horse.

Maybe the man put a charm on it or something? Something that made people happy? Who knew because right now Harry had a game to play and he needed to focus on it.

He'll tell his horse about his whole day later, and maybe the horse would tell him the name of the man.

If horses could talk.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I was debating whether or not I should stay up all night and reread the first HP book and skim over the other books to see where I'd like to go next but sleep has won me over and I decided that introducing Harry was more important and not just have a long streak of a thick browed guy ya know? like a little break until whatever happens next. I wonder what will happen next O:

But thank you so much for the reviews/faves/follows and such! Goodnight!


	9. Chapter 9

4 years had passed. Was what he said true? That the two would meet again? Harry's been longing to see the man again.

Harry looked through the window, green scenery passing by rapidly, the train shaking on the rails. His second year was over and so much had happened and now it was time to go back, back to the Dursley's, something that he'd been dreading the past few days now. Another summer with them is going to be hellish.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry looked to his bushy haired friend, Hermione (the red head currently using the loo). Harry nodded to her question.

"I'm ok Hermione."

His voice didn't sound very enthusiastic and Hermione knew even before his answer that Harry was not ok.

"Harry something's been on your mind lately. You'd start to space out and Ron's told me about the horse you have. That you got it from a man years ago. Does this have to do with him?"

Hermione certainly does live up to her status as the brightest witch of her age. Harry looked at his hands.

"Yea it does. It's just that- this man, he was the first to treat me like somebody special. And he said that we'd meet again when my entire life changes entirely."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "He said that? Who was he?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. He never said his name. But whoever he was he was brilliant enough that he scared Aunt Petunia so badly." Harry smiled remembering that.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. This made Harry laugh.

"I'm just joking Hermione!"

Hermione eyed him, still not approving of his words.

"Well anyways, I just wanted to see him, even if it's just once more, and ask him… I don't know what but to know about him. To see whom he is. To be with him again."

Hermione scooted on the train seat so she was now sitting in front of Harry. Harry looked up and the witch smiled at him, placing a hand on his.

"You will Harry. If he promised you then he will."

Harry smiled and nodded, squeezing her hand. "Thanks Hermione."

The door slide open loudly and Ron stepped in looking relieved but annoyed.

"Blimey the line for the bathroom was long. I was at the end! They didn't really plan out this train well. If it's a long train ride from London to Scotland then they should have more than one bathroom!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well when I _asked_ if you had to go before we left you said you didn't need to."

"Yea, because I didn't need to at the time!"

"If you didn't eat and drink so much on the train then you wouldn't have this problem Ronald."

Ron threw his hands in disbelief, sitting down next to Harry.

"Bloody hell, sorry that I get hungry on the train!"

Harry could only smile and watch his two friends bicker with each other. It was very amusing seeing them, except when Ron would try to get Harry to back him up on something but Hermione would scold him too.

Though he liked it. He had friends for the first time in his life. He didn't have to talk to his horse as much. Hermione was probably right (like usual).

If the man promised it then the two would meet again. Soon he hoped.

For the rest of the ride, Harry watched his friends nag nag nag and laughed.

4 years passed since then. 4 long years.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

womp womp


	10. Chapter 10

5 years. It's been 5 years since they met and at this point Harry wasn't expecting him to come. He knew it was selfish to think that but at this point he didn't expect him to show.

Now that his 3rd year was over he found family. His godfather Sirius Black. Sirius was something out of a dream, a family he never knew. Oh he wished he could live with him, but he couldn't. He was still framed for Peter Pettigrew's 'murder' and there was no evidence that could prove him innocent.

Professor Lupin knew that Harry longed to be with his only family but he also advised Harry to not do it.

Harry sat in the Great Hall pushing his food around on his plate, Hermione and Ron bickering beside him. Another summer with the Dursley's and no show from the man. Tomorrow would be his time to leave Hogwarts.

Another year passed at Hogwarts, another crazy year full of werewolves, dementors and hippogriffs.

The man had promised but he never showed. At this point Harry has stopped talking to his horse all together. Looking at the horse reminded him of the man. The man who promised.

Hopefully next year won't be so crazy.

5 years have passed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I may or may not be working on chapter 11 right now oho. Will it be another harry one? Or do we finally get iggy back? Or maybe its a disgusting frog that iggy doesnt like. Or maybe even Voldemort.. Or maybe it's harry's sixth year?

womp womp we'll see next chapter but thank you for reading! I love the reviews! Ciao.


	11. Chapter 11

"Are they bloody _insane?!_ Why the _hell _are they reviving the Triwizard tournament?!"

The Prime Minister and England's boss both looked terrified. They have never seen England react like this before (though it wouldn't be the first time he's acted like this in office)

"_I_ was one of the people who fucking took action and cancelled that barbaric game!"

His boss nervously piped up, "B-But England didn't y-you also create the g-game?"

England clenched his fists and slammed it on his boss' desk, darkly glaring at him.

"I did but do you realize how long ago that was? The first game was in 1294 and I've had a _lot_ of time to think about these games. Can't _I_ have a change in opinion too?"

His boss promptly shut his mouth, not daring to say anything else. Even if he hated hearing about magic people and chocolate frogs, his boss wouldn't _dare_ tell the nation when to shut up when he acted like this.

England rubbed his head and turned his gaze to the Prime Minister who stood stock-still at the nation's focus.

"Now tell me, what _are_ they sending over?"

The prime minister gulped and fidgeted with his tie, his hand slightly shaking when he held the paper up.

"T-They're sending over several d-dragons from Romania a-and a sphinx from Egypt.."

"Did you say _dragons?_"

The Prime Minister nodded.

_Those bloody fools. Dragons? Do they want someone to die?_

"They actually have p-put some restrictions on it s-so-"

"Restrictions? Oh you mean only those who are of Wizarding Age of 17 then it's all right? It's not as dangerous hmm? Prime Minister people have _died _in these games. No matter how old or young they are someone is going to die in this years too."

_Merlin's Beard_ these people are suppose to know their stuff about the magic world to know what's dangerous or not. Oh he'll be _damned_ if he doesn't do anything about this.

"W-Wait a minute England, are you going to try and do something to stop this? You can't just drop your responsibilities and go! And are you forgetting," his boss stood up, pointing his finger at the blonde, "that _you_ cut off ties with them? I will not allow you to go. You ar-"

England grabbed his boss by the collar, lifting the man a couple inches off the floor.

"Do _not_ start acting like a boss now. Responsibilities? You mean all the work you push off on me because you'd rather go on your vacations with your girlfriends? I feel so bad for your wife. Yes I've cut off ties but I can sure as hell retie them. I am a nation. I am not so spineless man who's only good at being a sloth."

His boss gulped for air and England set him down on his feet again. His boss gasped and coughed rubbing his neck. England blankly stared at him.

He wasn't one for violence but he was _really_ rubbing him the wrong way. His boss didn't have the slightest idea about the magic world. His boss just enjoyed his name in the government, one that England could easily take away if he wished. The only reason he tolerated him was because his boss was persuasive in meetings (despite his loose behavior outside the conference room).

"Remember, I can easily take away your title as my boss if I wished. You may be my boss, but you are still only a human. Who would the higher ups believe more? You? Or me?"

His boss' face turned beet red, his little brows furrowing. He was angry. Oh _dear_.

"I have friends with higher officials too England so don't think your status as a nation will scare me fool!"

"Scare? I thought they told you when you became my boss that rule number one is to _always_ be scared of me."

England took a calm step to the man, who trembled but stayed in his spot.

"Unless you'd like to experience something more horrible than death itself, not even from me, then I suggest you'd back off right now."

"N-Not from you?"

England tilted his head, almost watching his boss boredly. "Oh you don't remember? 12 years ago? When that Dark Wizard came to power? Prime Minister would you like to hear what he did during then?"

The Prime Minister raised his brows and jumped at the sudden spotlight. He nodded his head.

"My boss told me to do nothing. Imagine that? Nothing. I had to continue my duties as a nation because my boss told me to do nothing. Sure I may have been throwing up blood and collapsing unconscious and my people were dying but my boss' orders are absolute."

England looked back to his boss.

"My boss told me that my responsibilities lied with the muggles, because the witches and wizards are apparently not my people and are not my concern. So I had to ignore the First Wizarding War because of my lazy boss who didn't want to do work."

"B-But what do you mean not from y-"

"That Dark Wizard that rose 12 years ago isn't dead. And guess what? _I_ can't kill him."

Hiss boss and the Prime Minister made a subtle gasp hearing this. If the nation England couldn't kill somebody then doesn't that mean he's powerless? That meant his boss couldn't be protected. His boss couldn't believe it.

"Remember when he went around killing muggles and magic people alike, looking for away to gain immortality? What _if_ he found out about me and just so happens to try and use any resource necessary to find me? Who'd he 'interrogate' first?"

His boss' face froze. England slightly smirked at his boss' realization. One thing his boss didn't want was to die.

The Prime Minister only stood by the desk, glancing away and avoiding the nation's eyes.

Ah, now he's in control and it felt _so_ nice.

England spun on his heel and made way for the door.

"Now if you excuse me I have preparations to start. Oh," England paused and craned his neck from around the door, "I'll let you know if I need you for anything. You know, for like signatures for your status and all. Good evening boss, Prime Minister."

He closed the door softly, walking down the hall, shaking his head. Sometimes he wonders _why_ those people even tried arguing with him.

Preparations needed to be made. England didn't want to but he has to call a certain _frog_ and two nations that he hadn't talked to in a long time.

England slowed his walking, looking out the window. He had the feeling that he couldn't do anything to stop the Triwizard Tournament. He could try and he could hope but it was very unlikely. Though if he heard right and that it's going to be held at Hogwarts that'd mean…

England smiled fondly, watching the little bird tend to its baby in its nest.

"Harry Potter, we'll be meeting again very soon."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

now we know what's going to happen ufu. And you might be wondering how ENgland's going to become a professor but don't worry I've got it worked out. As a little spoiler, I'll say he first needs to be accepted this year as a good muggle for next year. that make sense sort of.. kind of? Idk but until I write it it'll be more clear.

and lmao i'm not really good when it comes to threats and all so I hope this sounded good.

Thank you for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

"So Norway," England nodded to the small blonde man who looked at him from across the coffee table, "Sweden," looking at the tall blue-eyed man who gave an intimidating aura, "Romania," the cheerful smiling man nodded to England, "and frog."

"Oi is that all I get for an introduction?!"

"We already know you France now shut up."

"Why you li-"

The brunette laughed and waved his hands, "Now now lets not fight! Let's leave the fighting to the champions hm?"

A small scoff came from the Norwegian and Sweden's aura seemed to intensify. France rubbed his head and England clenched his fists. It's the _reason_ they were here, to talk about this barbaric game.

The five nations have gathered in London at England's home on a grey mid-July day. England, representing the magical school of Hogwarts (though it is in Scot's area) and the school accepts people from Wales, Ireland, Scotland and England, England was the one to represent the nations school, the other 3 not really interested in it.

France, representing the school of Beuaxbatons Academy of Magic, which accepted students from France, Spain, Portugal, Luxembourg, Belgium and the Netherlands, but he represents them all since it was located in his home.

As for the Nordics, both Norway and Sweden were here was because the school they represent is Durmstrang Institute and neither has disclosed the location of where the school is (the only possible clue is that it is in the far northernmost region of either country) so whenever the Triwizard came around they both showed up.

You may be wondering, "If the Triwizard Tournament was at each school, wouldn't that mean that they've been to Dursmstrang and they should know where it's at?" That's a yes and no my good reader.

Yes because when they visit the school each time, they know where they're at upon arrival, but for no, whenever they leave both nations and schools coincidentally 'forget' the location of the school. France has been searching for _years_ but he'd always get lost in the blizzards and when found, dragged by the ear by an annoyed Norwegian man or scared off by a Swede.

Back when the games started, the four collectively decided as a group that it would be a great way to show off their strengths through their schools. So England, mainly wanting to beat the crap out of France (France wanting to do the same thing), and Norway and Sweden, also deciding to show off their strength to the Westerners, created the games. But just like England, the other nations had changed their thoughts about the Tournament, not liking their people dying so brutally during these games just to get at one another, so the game was discontinued after 1792.

So all in all, the gathering always consisted of a short adorable blonde, an intimidating glasses wearing guy, a perverted nice hair man and a thick browed tea-loving man.

"You know England," France started, "I _really _get the feeling I was just mocked and complimented right now."

"Oh _God _stop with that whole, 'We're only characters in a story' crap. We have more important details to be concerned with."

"I agree." said the big Swedish man who kept his gaze firmly on the two Westerners. "Who did you say revived the games, England?"

England sighed and folded his arms, "A man by the name of Barty Crouch. I don't know many details to this but all I know is that he is the Ministry of Magic's Head of International Magical Cooperation. I think I heard, also, someone by the name of Ludo Bagman helped him with it."

"If Barty Crouch if the Head of the International Magical Cooperation then it must have been easy for him to persuade our people." Sweden said firmly.

"I heard form my people that Ludos is the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Oho I know more about your people than you do England~"

"Shut _up_."

Romania laughed in his chair in the corner, no one paying any mind to him.

England looked back to Sweden, "But my question is, why didn't you give your say to this revival? Aren't you against it too Sweden?"

Norway spoke up this time in his soft voice, "Of course we are. You should know as well as the rest of us that these games are unnecessary."

Sweden nodded, "We did tell our people we were against it but they liked the idea of giving entertainment to our students and the new restrictions pleased them."

France groaned loudly, "Oh that being 17 restriction? That's the same crap our people believed too! My boss was just as excited as the Headmistress when he heard about it. Entertainment? _Non_ someone will die this year I can guarantee it."

England sighed and nodded, "And for once I agree with you France. I told my boss and the Prime Minister too but these damn muggles don't seem to understand anything about the magic world. It's like they _want_ someone to die."

The four of them fell silent, deep in thought. Norway swiftly picked his cup up and took a sip, Sweden cleaned his glasses, France fidgeted with his tie and England rubbed clockwise circles on his temples.

The four of them _knew_ they couldn't do anything to stop this. Even if they were nations the amount of people against them was sheer a sheer overwhelming amount and they always had to do what pleased their people.

"But isn't it _exciting_? Dragons will be there!" Romania chided gleefully.

France only _tch_'d and looked at the brunette in a side-glance. This Romanian was so strange. They all knew he dabbled in the black arts (but they'd all be lying if the said they hadn't done it either), but this man _genuinely_ enjoyed it and he was never afraid to hide it.

"For you only Romania because you could show off your bred dragons." England growled.

"I know isn't it wonderful? _My_ dragons!"

"Romania," Sweden interjected, "were your people compliant in the inquiries for dragons being used in games?"

Romania nodded, "Yes they were. I actually _gave_ the idea to your people, England, of using my dragons for the Tournament. I'd love to see what these animals can do against humans, wouldn't you?"

England gripped his armchair roughly. This guy why he…

"Romania."

The brunette looked to the purple-eyed man.

"Yes Norway?"

"You should leave."

"I was planning on it actually. But thank you for the tea England. As for the upcoming games, I might stay to watch."

Romania's everlasting smiled was still on his face and he stood up, nodding to the Westerners and then nodding to the Nordics. As he raised his head, a certain dark, mischievous look glowed from those ruby eyes.

"I'd love to see what happens at this years tournament. I know it'll be _exciting_."

With that he glided to the door with a little hop to his step and left.

"I don't know why we have most of our dragons in Romania with that freak!" France cried out.

Norway looked to France with his cold stare. "He's the only one willing to put up with the dangerous creatures of course and he actually enjoys it. I'd like to see your people try and do that, France."

England smirked, loving the retort from the Norwegian man. Norway was the only person he's met who was so _skilled_ in comebacks and retorts. He should spend more time with him.

Sweden waved a hand in front of his friend, motioning him to stop. Norway gazed at Sweden but nodded. Norway knew this wasn't the time for petty arguments.

Sweden looked at England, blue eyes locking with green. "So tell us England, what do you plan to do about it? We have no power to stop it and I'm assuming you gathered us to tell us your ideas on what to do."

Sweden was the man who was always to the point, never beating around the bush and England liked that about him. Easy conversation and quick minded.

England set down his tea and took a breath and nodded.

"Yes I do have some ideas on what I'd like to do.. Of course the main objective is to make sure no one dies, or is seriously injured. Help protect the students. However, I'd like to ask you something first."

England folded his hands on his crossed leg and looked at the visitors with z stern gaze.

"Do you remember the First Wizarding War 12 years ago? When the Dark Wizard going by the name of Voldemort was on killing sprees with his Death Eaters."

Norway nodded stiffly, "Yes. Both Sweden and I had people join him. Wasn't it the same with you France?" The French man nodded, not liking the memory of his people defecting to dark magic.

"What about him England?" Sweden asked.

"I always had the feeling it wasn't truly over and I know, for a fact, that he is alive. If not in body, but in soul."

Sweden blinked, his facial expression not changing but Norway's did the slightest to surprise. Was he serious? Voldemort was _alive_?

"Why didn't you tell us this England?"

"I didn't really want to throw out big news like that to everyone, Norway, because I had to be sure it was true. Imagine if someone had heard me, a wave of fear would have taken over the continent would it not?"

"Then why do you decide now was the best time to tell us England?" asked Sweden.

"Because the boy, Harry Potter, has had encounters with Volde- no Tom Riddle twice in his first and second and years at Hogwarts."

France was more than shocked hearing this. "Twice?! How?!"

England shook his head, "From what Headmaster Dumbledore told me, the first time, Voldemort possessed the body of one of the teachers, a man by the name of Quirinus Quirrell, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. A naïve man who went out and searched for Tom Riddle, believing if he got recognition for finding him then he'd stop being laughed at. Unfortunately during his travel somewhere in Europe, Tom possessed him. Sort of ironic isn't it?"

England sighed but continued, "He returned during Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. However he heard news that Philosopher's Stone was being guarded at Hogwarts so he tried all he could to nab it but the one who stopped him was Harry. Touching his body made the possessed body crumble to pieces and his soul left, most likely searching for another body."

Norway's insides burned, oh how he _loathed_ Voldemort.

"And the second time England?"

"The second time, Sweden, is when he somehow had a piece of his soul implanted in a diary. Harry Potter also destroyed him then too."

Norway raised a brow.

"Why is Harry Potter a recurring person in Voldemort's defeat? He may be the Boy Who Lived but why is he always fighting him?"

England avoided their stares, looking out the window, watching drizzling rain hit his balcony. France kept his gaze on his hands

"This is another important piece of information that I'd like none of you to mention to anyone. It must stay between us you hear?"

The two were shocked but murmured a quiet 'yes'. Thank _God_ they had charms in place.

England sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not just anyone can defeat Voldemort. Actually, nobody can. I can't even."

"What do yo-"

England shook his head, cutting Norway off midsentence.

"It's been foretold in prophecy that the boy who's born at the end of July, who's parent's have thrice defied Voldemort could defeat him. One must kill the other for neither can live while the other survives."

England has come to terms with the prophecy only recently. When he met young Harry Potter, he just couldn't believe that a boy, this innocent boy, had to be the one to kill the Dark Wizard. It was upsetting, it even _terrified_ England. Though after hearing Harry's great deeds during his encounters with Tom, he had no choice but to believe that only Harry could be the one to do it. But why?

England always wondered why it had to be _Harry_.

"Harry is the one foretold in the prophecy England?"

England nodded.

Sweden looked at his tea. He could only imagine how England felt about a boy doing the deeds that he shouldn't have to. If it were Sealand having to do these things he'd be terrified too.

Norway fixated his eyes on the Daily Prophet hanging off the table. He knew that he too would feel just as England does now. If that happened to Iceland well, Norway wouldn't _dare_ let anyone hurt Iceland.

"I'm sorry, England." Norway spoke.

England blinked in shock, but looked away.

Minutes passed in silence until France cleared his throat.

"Tell us England, what are you planning to do this Triwizard Tournament?"

England rubbed his head, "I had a few ideas but I'd says it's going to be difficult since I haven't any connection with the Ministry. My only penny of thought is that you three could go to the games as advisors for the magic government for each country. For me, I could probably pass off as a muggle inquisitor, checking to see if the games are too dangerous for muggleborns and the environement and such. However," England straightened up, "my main goal is to gain the trust of the teachers at Hogwarts. I have the _strongest_ feeling Tom Riddle is going to be back soon and that we're just in the eye of the storm. I _need_ to somehow, anyhow, become a staff member for Hogwarts the next years to keep watch and protect Harry Potter."

England paused and breathed in and out.

"I need your help. Please."

It was surprising seeing the once Great Nation Britain asking for help. But it wasn't something to joke about because they knew Voldemort wasn't one for games. He made that very clear during the First Wizarding War.

Sweden nodded. "Norway and I will help. France?"

"Of course, if it means getting rid of that murderer, then I gladly will."

England put on a small smile and thanked them. England picked his tea up and took a sip. Oh how he loved tea.

Norway seemed to have, confusion in his eyes? France noticed, watching the small man trace the rim of his empty teacup.

"Norway, what is it?"

Norway opened but closed his mouth until he was able to form a coherent sentence.

"You said Barty Crouch is the Head of the International Magical Cooperation?"

"Yes, why?"

"Remember the trials for Death Eaters after Voldemort's fall, Sweden? With Igor Karkaroff?"

"Yes, Norway wher-" Sweden stopped in realization.

"You remember too Sweden."

France raised a brow, not at all following what they were saying.

"Igor Karkkaroff asked to be put on trial, to give names out about fellow Death Eaters. England I'm sure you heard since you get the Daily Prophet," Norway nodded to the unfolded one on the table, "about Barty Crouch's son."

"Now that you mention it.."

"Mention what? I'm so lost here!"

Norway rolled his eyes.

England spoke up. "Igor Karkaroff was a Death Eater and he gave off names for his freedom. He called out Barty Crouch's son, Barty Crouch Jr. It's true though, he worked for Voldemort and Igor got his freedom while Jr. to Azkaban."

Sweden folded his arms. "He did gain freedom and now he's now Headmaster of Durmstrang."

It was France's and England's turn to be in shock.

"Headmaster?"

"Yes, so you'll be seeing him at this years game France, England."

France threw his hands in the air in disbelief, and England rolled his back. What were they going to tell them next, that Merlin was still alive living in Rio with Elvis?

Norway stood up and fixed his attire and Sweden mimicking his actions.

"We should go now. Thank you for inviting us England, and for the information."

Norway nodded and spoke, "Yes and if we have any important information ourselves we'll tell you."

Norway walked around the little table and held out a gentle hand. England stood and shook his soft, strong hand.

"And we will help you this upcoming year to England."

England smiled, "Thank you Norway," England shook hands with Sweden too, "and Sweden. I really appreciate it."

The Nordics nodded and left, closing the door softly behind them.

England slumped into his armrest and loosened his tie.

"Hey England, didn't you meet Harry Potter once?"

"Yea, I did."

"What was he like?"

England followed the grains of wood on the wall, smiling fondly in remembrance.

"He was a wonderful boy, when I met him."

France chuckled softly, "You mean like our boys?"

England laughed, "Much quieter than Alfred, and his presence could rival Matthew's."

France snorted. "Now I'd like to see that."

England chuckled, he couldn't wait to see France's reaction to the Boy Wonder but another thought took him over.

"I'm sorry about your friend Nicolas Flamel, France."

France took a moment before speaking, "It was his time to go. He knew it too. He even sent me a letter, God only knows how he found my address but I'm glad. He was the first human to live for so long and not die so quickly."

"England, don't get too attached to Harry Potter."

"Well France I'm going to have to ignore your advice. I already have grown attached to him."

France rolled his eyes to England who was starting to drift asleep. The French man sighed and nuzzled in the chair, closing his eyes.

"This is favor #2, I'll be spending the night again."

"Don't snore too loudly frog."

"Like you?"

England smiled tiredly and listened to the rain.

Oh what a rainy day it was.

The rain gave a _pitter-patter, pitter-patter_ on the roof all night long. Never letting up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**1.** I really really really really really love Norway and I am so happy to include him in here and I hope he isnt to OOC.

**2.** When France says 'our boys' it's not in a married way since I don't really want to go into the whole pairing/romance thing cause i suck at that and this is more about harry/englands coolio relationship.

**3. **dragons are the shiiit

**4.** I've noticed (and a friend pointed out) that I don't really describe the places/areas all to well and even though I like for you the reader to try and imagine the place so you can be more in tune with it I think I'll start describing it more.

I hope you enjoyed it and such. I actually wrote this last night but my shit internet wasn't working so I couldn't upload then. But last night I had a dream where England was _my_ father and so? Idk it was pretty cool.

Love the reviews and everything! Have a good day!


	13. Chapter 13

August 22nd, 1994

The 422nd Quidditch World Cup was today.

England's heart was pumping not only for his own excitement but he could feel the excitement of his people who were more than ready to see the game of the century, Bulgaria versus Ireland. England's own team had a devastating loss to Transylvania (390 to 10) but Transylvania hadn't made it pass the other team so he was fine. England didn't have a particular favor as to who should win, but he'd be cheering a little bit more for Bulgaria since he didn't want his brother's team to win.

Now today wasn't just the day for a brilliant match in his own country, but it was also the day that he has to prove himself as a worthy muggle inquisitor so he could attend Hogwarts Triwizard Tournament. He had to prove himself worthy to the Minister of Magic.

_Oh God_, England thought, _will Ireland be there too?_

If you don't know good reader, England and his brothers are not on good terms with each other. So Ireland meeting England for the first time in a long time will be a.. very bad situation.

England sighed and rubbed his head. He'd pray for anything, _anything_ but his brother to be there.

"Are you Arthur Kirkland?" a voice interrupted England's thoughts.

England raised his head up, locking eyes with an older fellow who had a dark grey moustache, a bowler hat and robes on. England stood up and held his hand out.

"Yes I am, and you must be Barty Crouch, pleasure meeting you."

The man smiled and shook his hand, surprised by the England's strong grip.

"Pleasure meeting you too. We should get going so we don't miss the game."

England smiled and followed the man out of the government building. "Yes I'd love to see, Quidditch was it?" It felt so weird having to lie about his knowledge of magic.

The man smiled and nodded his head, "Yes very good! The 422nd Quidditch World Cup. You're in for a treat Arthur, we have the best players this year on both teams."

Barty stated. England walked on the man's side, listening in gleefully since it's been so long since he's had a nice conversation about magic.

"This year we have a student who's on Bulgaria's team. A Viktor Krum who's a 7th year at Durmstrang Institute. He's a seeker for the team and he's a very good one too. Oh a seeker is-"

"The player that catches the golden snitch yes?" Arthur added.

Barty clapped his hands, "Wonderful you know so much! I see you've been studying Arthur. A good thing to do if you want to be a muggle inquisitor for this years Triwizard Tournament."

England nodded, "Yes I do, I want to make sure nobody will get hurt this year, mostly muggleborn students is whom I'm concerned about. Tell me Barty," England looked to the man as they turned a corner, the two of them making their way to a less crowded area of London, "I read that the last Triwizard Tournament was in 1792 and it was discontinued because of how dangerous it is. Why have you, revived, the game?"

Barty sighed, knowing he'd get this question from the new, soon-to-be muggle inquisitor.

"Because the stories I heard about the games sounded marvelous. Imagine, our students and the students in the future being able to watch the games and have something fun to do in their time at school? Something to be excited about! I know that the previous games were dangerous but we have put restrictions on this year's tournament to make sure no one will be seriously injured or killed. The Ministry would be in trouble if something like that happens."

England didn't say anything after that and listened to the man's ramblings about the magic world and what to expect. Telling him about Portkeys, a woman named Bertha Jorkins, Diagon Alley.

What a naïve man Barty Crouch was. Dragons most definitely meant someone _will_ get hurt. And the second task with mermaids? Has he not seen their dark nature? Don't even get England started on the third task.

England followed the short man inside a shabby store, Barty nodding to the worker and motioning England to follow him into the next room.

His eyes adjusted to the dark room, a small window shedding a little light in the room, revealing a table with a big tin can on it.

"Now Arthur this will be your first time traveling by Portkey and I want you to very carefully listen to me. After this speech I want you to grab the can on the table right there. Hold on tightly and never let go. With Portkeys it feels like your being hooked by the head and most people get nausea after its use. When the time is right, I will grab you and we will let go together and float down to the ground. Just be sure to _never_ let go understood? Now grab the can because it's time to go."

England nodded and hurried to the tin, grabbing one of its handles and Barty grabbing the one left of him. Seconds after grabbing it, England felt a sort of pulling and he could feel himself being forcefully lifted in the air, spinning wildly and his legs swinging in the motion, but this wasn't his first rodeo. The feeling of magic felt wonderful and England smiled, looking at Barty Crouch who smiled back.

"Now I'm going to grab you and I want you to let go when I do understand?!" Barty yelled over the wind. England nodded.

Barty used his right hand and grabbed firmly the back of England's shirt and when he did, England let go. The two were almost pushed away from the Portkey and were now flying but with Barty holding him, the two were gently, slowly, floating to the ground, using his legs almost as if he were stepping on invisible clouds.

The two landed on the ground and England almost busted out laughing.

"That was wonderful!"

Barty smiled and patted down his clothing, England also straightening his jacket and pants. England was told not to wear one of his suits and he happily complied, loving the feel of comfortable clothes to walk in.

"I am surprised at how much you enjoyed it! Most throw up on their first time. But it's always different with every person. Now let's hurry before the crowds come in."

Barty waved England to his side and the two walked over a few small grassy hills until climbing up the last bit of hill. England looked up to a towering stadium that stood before him, watching people crowded around outside and music and dancing ensuing across the crowd.

England really missed this all.

Barty pushed forward through the crowd with England following behind him. It was already dark and the game wasn't starting until 8. England looked at his watch, 20 minutes before the game. They had to hurry so England could speak with the Minister before the game. England was being pushed everywhere but Barty had a firm grip on his wrist.

"We don't want to lose you now Arthur!" England laughed.

"It's hard to lose me Barty!"

England bumped into everyone imaginable making his way up the steps, little girls knees that sat upon fathers, a pair of red head twins who were spouting out that the Irish would win (please don't win), a round glasses boy, oh and blonde man with a shrewd face and what he assumed to be his son and wife, all platinum blonde hair.

The diversity of his people was alarming but England was nonetheless happy to see them once again.

After climbing up several steps, the two reach a box where several chairs were in place and a man with light-brown haired stood, talking with a blonde woman holding a finger to her lip and a floating pad and quill by her head, scribbling down notes furiously.

"Now tell me Minister, you still haven't shared your thoughts on Bertha Jorkins? She _has_ been missing for quite some time now. Where is she?"

"Ms. Skeeter I'd love to talk but I have a game to tend to and- ah! Barty! There you are I've been waiting for you." The minister walked over to the pair, shaking hands with Barty, "Ludo will be here soon with his guests so hurry and take your seat. Oh, Ms. Skeeter I think it's time for you to leave now."

The blonde, that England knows for her negative views on everything in the Daily Prophet and her constant asking of where Bertha Jorkins was, smiled and nodded.

"As you say Minister. Let's go!" She called to her photographer and they left. What an interesting woman.

The Minister shook his head looking at the two men, "Rita Skeeter is quite the character wouldn't you say Barty?"

Barty smiled, "She is she is. Oh Excuse me Minister, this is Arthur Kirkland, the Muggle Inquisitor."

The Minister smiled and grabbed England's hand, shaking it firmly, "Arthur Kirkland a pleasure. I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. I'm so glad you could join us."

England smiled, "So am I and it's a pleasure meeting you. I'd like to talk to you about the big event this upcoming year and what my plans are."

Fudge folded his hands and nodded, "I see and it's understandable that you'd want to see to the safety of our muggleborn students. I will hear what you have to say, Arthur, and I will decide on it myself."

"Thank you very much Minister."

"Though in my opinion, I believe that there shouldn't be any muggleborn students at Hogwarts." Someone voiced.

England turned and so did Barty Crouch, coming face-to-face with the same blonde family before, the man standing inches away from England.

The man nodded his head to the Minister and Crouch but a short smile to England.

The nation resisted his urge to hex the man right there and then.

"Oh Lucius so glad you could join us. This is my acquaintance Arthur Kirkland, Arthur this is Lucius Malfoy, his wife, " Barty waving to the blonde woman, "Narcissa Malfoy and their lovely son," waving to the boy, "Draco Malfoy. Now if you excuse me I need to go and find Ludo. My house elf, Winky, is saving our seats Arthur."

Barty walked out the exit. England looked over his shoulder to see a small house elf waving shyly to England. England nodded to her then looked back the Malfoy's.

England smiled and held his hand out. "A pleasure meeting you."

Lucius' mouth twitched and he begrudgingly returned the handshake, but England made sure to give him a firm grip. Lucius' brows rose in surprise and he locked eyes with England whose green eyes were dark.

"Good meeting you too Arthur."

England nodded.

"Now if you excuse me but I should meet Barty's house elf. Lucius, and family."

England spun on his heel and headed to the small elf, who scooted over to let England sit in her spot.

"Thank you very much Winky."

She smiled and bowed to England. "You're welcome sir."

England chuckled and waved his hand, "Please call me Arthur. Sir sounds to formal."

WInky gaped in surprise. "Are you sure sir?"

England nodded, "Of course I'm sure. Just sit and relax yes?"

Winky smiled and nodded, sitting down beside him.

"Thank you Arthur."

England chuckled again and looked out over the rail. This stadium had to be many stories high, like 14 stories or higher, filled to the brim with waves of green and red. He sat in the top box with the Minister and officials so he had a great view of the field.

It's been to long indeed. England smiled and leaned back, remembering his time playing Quidditch. He should try it again, maybe when he visited America, or Japan. Hmm.

13 minutes passed and England held a lively conversation with Winky who was a happy chatter. She's so adorable.

"WOO THE IRISH IS GOING TO BEAT THEM TO THE GROUND!"

"FRED GEORGE STOP YELLING!"

England turned and saw dots of red hair enter the box. Pair of twins were laughing and high fiving each other, an older red head man looking very disappointed at the boys (England assuming him to be the father), a red head boy smiling and laughing at the twins, another red head boy shaking his head (and looking like he didn't want to be near them), a red head girl rolling her eyes next to a bushy brunette and-

England's eyes widened in shock and he turned facing forward again. _Here?_ Of all places to meet Harry Potter again it had to be _here?_

_God why me?_ England thought solemnly.

"Excuse me sir, are you by any chance the Muggle Inquisitor we've been hearing about?"

England turned his head back to see a big, blonde, blue eyed man with an under shave. England hopped to his feet and turned to him, gladly accepting his handshake. Even if Harry Potter was here, his first priority was to get the Ministry to trust him.

"Yes I am, and you are…?"

"Ludo Bagman!"

England smiled. "Arthur Kirkland, pleasure meeting you Ludo Bagman."

"Glad I can finally meet the muggle inquisitor! Oh and Percy!" the man grabbed the red head boy, who looked very displeased, to his side, "This is Percy Weasley, he works under Barty Crouch."

The boy nodded and held his hand out.

"Nice to meet you Arthur Kirkland."

Percy nodded and opened his mouth until someone came zipping to his side and almost pushed Percy out of the way.

"I'm Arthur Weasley, I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, it is such a pleasure to meet you Arthur Kirkland! To have a muggle here at a Quidditch game is quite the news. And your name being Arthur too must be good luck!"

England laughed after the man had grabbed his hand excitedly and shook it.

"I'm sure it is."

Arthur leaned in close and lowered his voice, "Now tell me, can phones be used to throw at people?"

England tilted his head, amazing things these people can come up with.

"They… can but it is highly recommended not to be used as a throwing mechanism."

Arthur nodded stiffly, "I knew it. Thank you very much Arthur. Family! Gather over here I'd like you to meet someone-"

"Arthur please sit down the game is starting in 3 minutes!"

Arthur looked to Ludo but nodded, then turned to England and grabbed his hand again.

"Pleasure meeting you, let's talk after the game yes?"

England nodded, "Of course, after I talk with the Minister."

Arthur smiled gleefully and grabbed Percy, pushing him to the seats a few down from England.

England sat down in his own chair, a bit nervous to see who will be by him.

The group shuffled between one another, finding seats to sit and who to sit by, until finally, the bushy haired girl sat beside him. England gave a side-glance to see who was beside her. Harry was and the other red head boy.

England pushed down his nervousness and cleared his throat, turning to the kids and smiling. The girl seemed, irritated, when she looked at him, the red haired boy almost did too and Harry, England couldn't tell what he was feeling or thinking.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland, I'm the Muggle Inquisitor."

The girl smiled and she shook his hand.

"I'm Hermione Granger, this is Ronald Weasley," she waved to the other boy, "and this is Harry, Harry Potter." Waving to Harry.

England smiled and looked at them all. "Well I'm very glad to have met you all."

Harry however put on a fake smile and looked at England, "To meet again, not really glad sir."

England felt a stab at his heart. Ah.

He nodded his head to him.

"Well, it's a pleasure meeting you again, Harry Potter."

England looked straightforward, crossing his legs and looking at the players coming out making grand entrances. However…

England looked to his side, noticing Winky was still in the empty seat.

"Barty isn't back yet, Winky?"

The kids leaned over a little, noticing the little elf occupying a spot. She shook her head.

"No, after he brought you here Arthur, he hasn't showed up."

"Hmm."

England looked away. He said he needed to find Ludo but he's here now, so maybe he had to attend to other things?

But even with the game going on, the Irish winning points after points, and the still no show Barty Crouch, England couldn't really pay attention to anything. Everything had dulled around him.

He promised Harry Potter they'd meet again, when his entire life changes but he didn't. They met years after his life changed. He had friends, so of course he'd be better with them.

England sighed; this is why he shouldn't get attached. The promises he makes never turn out the way he wanted them too.

But, England glanced at Harry, who was cheering with his friends for the young Seeker Viktor Krum, he was happy.

And that's all that really mattered.

And thank _God_ Ireland didn't show up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Dang I cannot stop writing because Im really enjoying this but my hands are hurting urghh. Well, no pain no gain amirite?

And yup then Ireland won even though Viktor Krum caught the snitch. How? The Irish got os many points ahead that even getting the snitch wasn't enough and that's the first time that's ever happened so there's a little Quidditch history there for you.

Thank you for the reviews I loved them! Have a great day/night!


	14. Chapter 14

Entering the top box was unbelievable to Harry. His first Quidditch World Cup game and he was able to spend it with his friends _and_ in the top box where only officials get to be, thanks to Ludo Bagman. He was really happy he couldn't contain himself, all smiles and laughs.

Harry stared wide-eyed, sweeping his gaze across the box. Chairs lined up over viewing the open air. Waves of colors filled the whole stadium, loud cheers for both teams and stomping feet and clapping hands ringing in his ears A constant beat and if he squinted, he could see some green and red colors fighting against each other across the stadium. He could only smile because the excitement was overwhelming. Simply unbelievable!

But what caught Harry's attention wa-

"WOO THE IRISH IS GOING TO BEAT THEM TO THE GROUND!"

"FRED GEORGE STOP YELLING!"

The twins laughed and high-fived each other, Ron was laughing his arse off and the girls were just rolling their eyes. _Boys_ amirite? But amongst the wave of curious eyes that decided to look at them from the chairs, Harry saw those eyes.

Those green eyes.

It was him.

The man turned away quickly, sinking into his chair. Of all the places he could have met him, it was here and Harry didn't know how to feel at the moment.

Harry felt sad, angry but most of all, hurt.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione whispered in his ear.

Ron scooted over to the two while Ginny rushed to the twins, who continued their chanting THE IRISH WILL WIN. Ludo had walked to the man sitting in his chair.

"That's him Hermione, that's the man." Harry whispered, nodding his head to the blonde. He was dressed in casual clothes, a jacket, black shirt, pants and boots. It was entirely different than what Harry would have imagined seeing him in. You now like a suit since he seemed to be more of the… professional type guy.

Hermione's eyes grew in size and Ron dropped his mouth, looking at the man. _That_ man?

"You mean _him?_ Blimey you weren't joking about those eyebrows!"

Hermione smacked Ron's arm, "Shush I'm trying to listen to their conversation Ron!"

"Excuse me sir, are you by any chance the muggle inquisitor we've been hearing about?" Ludo asked loudly, towering over the man. The man inclined his head back, surprised at seeing such a tall man.

The man stood up and took his handshake, "Yes I am, and you are…?"

"Ludo Bagman!" Ludo replied cheerfully, shaking his hand roughly.

The man smiled, "Arthur Kirkland, pleasure meeting you Ludo Bagman."

Harry was surprised hearing this. Arthur Kirkland, such an ordinary name for the man but... Muggle Inquisitor?

"Hermione what's a Muggle Inquisitor?" asked Ron.

Hermione shook her head slightly, "I don't know but I think he's saying that he's form the muggle government, here to observe the game."

"What for?" Harry asked.

"No idea."

The golden trio watched to conversation, not really knowing what to do now that they met the man.

Promises get broken all the time so Harry didn't know what to expect now that he knew who he was.

Harry clenched his hands, well it didn't really matter. He now knew the man's name and knew what his job was. Before he may have wanted to know all about him, about the man who made him feel special and happy. But now all he wanted was to do was watch the game with his friends and be anywhere but near the man.

"Harry I don't think you should be mad at him."

"Why not Hermione? He said he'd come again when Harry's life changes entirely but instead he's here making friends with officials. What would you do if you here him then?"

"Well…"

Harry shook his head, "It doesn't matter now guys, I just want to forget about it and watch the game."

Hermione looked at him unsure and Ron nodded.

"So do I mate. We're here to see Viktor Krum anyways."

Harry watched the man laugh at Arthur Weasley's introduction and when the man tilted his head at Mr. Weasley's strange question. The man was just liked before, a smiling cheerful person who seemed to know when the laughing should stop.

Those green eyes that held their stories, emotions swimming in them, anger, happiness and, sadness?

"They… can but it is highly recommended not to be used as a throwing mechanism."

Arthur nodded and muttered something in response and turned to his family.

"Family! Gather over here I'd like you to meet someone-"

"Arthur please sit down the game is starting in 3 minutes!"

Mr. Weasley stopped and nodded and turned to the man again, shaking his hand excitedly again.

"Pleasure meeting you, let's talk after the game yes?"

The man smiled, "Of course, after I talk with the Minister."

Mr. Weasley pulled Percy and gathered his family. Harry was pushed around until finally he sat down in between Hermione and Ron, but Hermione being the little blockade between him and the man.

Hermione was irritated with Harry's response and it showed on her face but he didn't care. You'd think girls were dramatic but really, _boys_ amirite?

The clearing of someone's throat sounded and the three of them looked to the man, who was smiling and holding out hand. Harry looked at the hand, remembering that hand ruffling his hair.

That warm hand.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland, I'm the Muggle Inquisitor."

Hermione shook his hand.

"I'm Hermione Granger, this is Ronald Weasley," Hermione motioned to Ron, "and this is Harry, Harry Potter." She said finally, waving to Harry, almost as if she were trying to see his response when she says his name.

The man's eyes flashed with something but his smile never wavered.

"Well I'm very glad to have met you all."

Harry spoke up, plastering on a fake smile.

"To meet again, not really glad sir."

The man blinked in surprise. Hermione threw her head to Harry, eyes brimming with irritation, while Ron covered his mouth, stifling back a laugh.

The man set his hand on his lap but smiled.

"Well, it's a pleasure meeting you again, Harry Potter."

The man turned face forward, crossing his legs and watching the players come out.

Hermione shook her head and looked forward too, folding her arms. She simply could not _believe_ the way Harry acted sometimes, actually most times. Ron's smile lingered on his face, proud of his best friend for taking a stand. Ron started cheering when the players came out.

"Barty isn't back yet, Winky?"

Harry curiously tilted his head to the man.

The man was looking to his right, watching a little house elf that sat in the chair. Harry, Ron and Hermione leaned over a bit, curious to see what was happening.

The house elf, Winky, shook her head, looking up at the man.

"No, after he brought you here Arthur, he hasn't showed up."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Hmm."

The man faced forward and watched the game. He looked to be in deep thought.

Harry shook his head and focused on the game too, cheering with Ron and Hermione and not thinking about the man.

It was his time to enjoy himself and not worry about promises. But minutes into the game, another guest arrived in the top box, jumping and almost strangling the man- Arthur he meant- with their tiny little arms. Actually, Harry thought the newcomer was really trying to strangle the man.

"The stupid jerk is here!"

Hermione and Ron both turned their attention to the man, intrigued and confused (and Ron annoyed by the distraction).

"P-Peter get _off_ of me!" the man growled. He wrestled until he grabbed the arms and actually _flipped_ the stranger, well not so stranger to him, over, making the- kid?- fall promptly on his rear. The man held the kids arms up and turned the boy around, grabbing his chin and eyeing him bitterly.

"What did I tell you about attacking me Peter?"

The boy, who had the same thick brows as the man, only turned his head away.

"Hmph! Until you recognize me for the great person that I am that's when I'll stop stupid jerk!"

It was pretty obvious the man was _really_ irked by the boy.

"And why are _you_ here anyways? Didn't they all forget about you E-?"

The man covered Peter's mouth, smiling to the trio, trying so desperately it seemed to stop the boy form talking.

"I'm sorry about all this. This is my little brother, Peter Kirkland. Peter, be nice and say hello to-"

Peter quickly threw his tiny leg back then threw it forward, kicking the man in the shin.

The man yelped and let go of the boys wrists and grabbed his leg. Peter hastily passed the trio and rounded the chairs, making his way back to the exit. The trio watched him run. Peter, stuck his tongue out at his brother and laughed. The man turned and pointed his finger.

"I'm calling Berwald and Tino you damned brat!"

Peter was no longer laughing.

"S-Stupid jerk! If they ground me at least I'll eat _real_ food!" and with that, the boy ran out the exit, leaving the trio wondering if they might see him again.

"Why you little!" and the man jumped out of his chair, running after the boy.

Ron shook his head, "Harry are you _sure_ this is the guy you were telling us about? He doesn't seem so, cool like you made him out to be."

Harry shrugged and faced forward, "I don't know and I don't care so let's just watch the game alright?"

And what seemed like forever (actually about 20 minutes) the man returned, sitting casually into his chair and looking very pleased with himself. Wasn't he supposed to be the adult?

Oh whatever.

* * *

"WOOOOOOOO THE IRISH WOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!" The twins hollered, jumping and bumping chests with each other when the game finally was over

The man laughed softly, watching their excitement. Ron had a look of defeat on his face and he held his head in his hands. Harry patted his shoulder and Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatic behavior.

Harry could feel the man's eyes on him and he turned back, only to see him rushing over to the Minister of Magic.

Even if he tried denying himself, he could not help it. He was so _confused_ about, well, the man of course.

What on Earth was he doing? If he remembered correctly, the man used magic so, why was he passing himself off as a Muggle inquisitor?

Harry shook his head and stood up, following his group out the door. Well it didn't really matter; it was time to get back to the tent.

With that Harry and his friends exited the top box, going down the steps and leaving the man. He had no idea if he'd see the man again and he didn't really know if he wanted to or not.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Ah how I missed writing about loser arthur and harry 3 actually I've written up to chapter 18 but now I'm going back and revising it so yup.

Maybe more quick updates in the near future but now it's time to eat so thank you all for the reviews I really love them and have a lovely night!


	15. Chapter 15

England walked with a hop in step. Yes he's done it! Oh how he happy he was right now. To be able to persuade the Minister of Magic (the guy tried to hide his paranoia about England's desire of going to Hogwarts this year) to let him stay at Hogwarts and watch the Triwizard Tournament made him ecstatic!

Now, England stopped, looking up at the dark sky, in the middle of a sea of tents, he needed to send word to France and the Nordics. If this plan was going to work the four of them needed to inform one another of any news and details all the time. One cannot be left in the dark. However, it was pretty odd right now.

People were pushing past him very forcefully all which ways and loud yelling. His stomach started to churn because he could feel the hysteria from his people right now.

England looked around, watching people running in all different directions and screaming everywhere.

_What the bloody hell is go_-

A sudden touch made England jump in surprise.

He turned quickly to see Arthur Weasley who looked very serious and very distraught.

"Arthur, I want you to go with my group right now. There's some masked wizards tormenting local muggles and I don't want you getting hurt."

England blinked in surprise? Masked Wizards? Did that mean…?

_Oh God_.

Another hand grabbed his shoulder on the left, England looked to one twin.

"Don't worry mate, we've got you covered."

England knew already with a sinking feeling what the commotion was all about without Arthur Weasley telling him. But England prayed desperately that it wasn't true.

"Alright," one twin spoke, "We've got Arthur with us to since he's a muggle. Now let's go!"

England followed the group behind Harry, Ronald and Hermione, being pushed and pulled in every direction from the crowd, hoping that by being in back he could block the wild pushing. However after minutes passed Ronald trips, England almost tripping over him. Clumsy fellow this boy is.

England kneeled down and pulled the boy on his knees, looking him over. His leadership instincts were kicking in now.

"Are you ok Ronald? We need to hurry and go in the woods." England spoke calmly but sternly. Harry and Hermione pulled their friend up and Ronald nodded.

"Y-Yea I'm ok but where did my brothers and sister go?"

England quickly turned around, oh _God_. They've been separated.

"Bloody Hell."

England clenched his teeth, his heart starting to prick more sharply. Unconsciously he rubbed his chest. He turned to the three and looked at them carefully.

"Listen we _need_ to go in the forest and hide. Do you hear me? I want you to follow me and hold on, do _not_ let go at all ok?" He spoke vehemently.

The three were shocked at hearing this and Ron flinched a little at his tone. Arthur was so, _calm_. A muggle caught up in the haste of magic and he was just so calm. Why was he taking charge when he was just a muggle?

England grabbed Ronald's wrist. "Look we haven't the time to talk. Let's go _now_."

Hermione jumped a little at his sudden change in voice, like he was commanding an army to follow his orders. Harry nodded and grabbed Ron's hand and then Hermione's hand.

England turned and pushed his way through the crowd, it's a good thing he's strong or else he'd be trampled over by now. He's gotta hand it to his old self, especially his pirate one. The kids were trailing on and holding on tightly to one another. He needed to make sure they were safe.

Pushing and running, England made his way to the forest and pulled the kids along, heading deep into the forest

Something fell into his chest and England stopped, looking at platinum blonde hair. Hmm? The person pushed himself off of England and looked at him.

It was Draco Malfoy. Draco looked at him then at the trail behind him, smiling cynically at them like something wonderfully terrible would happen.

His smile especially grew when he laid his eyes on England and Hermione. He looked to Harry and Ron.

"You two better keep your mudblood and muggle safe Potter, Weasley."

England's grip on Ronald's wrist tightened and Ronald flinched. England then unexpectedly grabbed Draco by the collar, firmly locking eyes with Draco and lifting him inches off the ground. His expression was blank and Harry and the others couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"You should stay safe too Draco, because you never know if a stray spell might hit you and possibly kill you. A terrible accident it would be don't you think?"

Draco gaped and grabbed at England's hands, forcing him to let go and tripping over his own two feet. He put on his best glare but it was nothing compared to still blank face of the thick-browed man.

"Is that a threat Arthur?"

"Threat? How could _I_ a _muggle_ threaten _you_ hmm?" Emphasizing those few words with almost venom. To be honest, it was terrifying.

Draco breathed heavily, realizing what he said was right and looked at Harry who seemed just as shocked at this threat. Draco pushed two people who gathered togther out of the way and ran off.

"Dumb kid." England muttered, clenching his teeth.

The golden trio were really put off by his new attitude. Ron leaned over to Harry.

"I take back what I said before Harry, about Arthur being not cool."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron and looked to England.

England knew the kids were talking behind his back but right now he could care less. And speaking of kids...

"Damn Peter better be alright!" England spat out, just feeling all around annoyed at his current situation. He knew Sealand was a quick kid but he was a bit, no scratch that, _very_ stupid. He had better gotten out of here quick or else he large Swedish man would have England's head for it.

Before he could take one step further, something small caught his eye and England turned towards it, noticing Winky who was.. what was she doing? She was flailing her arms in the air and doing weird movements, as if she were being pulled back by an invisible string holding her by the torso. England knew what was wrong but right now he couldn't help her. He truly wished he could help her now but he knew Harry Potter was his priority.

England wasted no time in running again, surprising the kids who stumbled on their own feet. England looked everywhere, trying to look through trees and people and small fires, until he saw a clearing, and in the clearing at the edge were a pile of rocks covered by tall grass. England made his way to it and pulled the kids down.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stumbled to their knees and hands, all shocked not only at England but also at their current situation. What the _hell_ is going on?

Now their backs were to the trees and tall grass while they hid behind rocks.

The kids were breathing heavily and England looked at them, smiling a little. He knew this was nerve wrecking for them so it was best to be optimistic and cheerful, for them.

"We're going to be ok I promise." England spoke kindly. He wouldn't let anything happen to them

England looked at Harry who watched him incredulously. Harry was confused to say the least as to why England was acting like the leader, even though he was a muggle. Maybe he was chosen as Muggle Inquisitor for his good leadership skills?

Harry shook his head and placed his hands on his knees but his head shot up, eyes wide. England watched him curiously.

"Harry what is it?" asked Hermione.

"My wand Hermione, I've lost my wand."

Ron threw his head to Harry, "Are you serious? You've _lost_ your wand?"

Harry looked at Ron, "When we're getting pushed and pulled it's likely someone may have taken it on accident. I don't know how I did it but I've lost it!"

Ron shook his head and groaned.

England put his hand on Ronald's shoulder, who returned his gaze meekly.

"Calm down Ronald, we'll look for his wand after. Right now we need to hide understand? So keep your voice down."

Ron was surprised but meekly nodded, afraid of England's change in character. It was as if he was ready to attack anyone who came nearby, and possibly, seriously, wound his victim. Like a lion waiting for its prey.

England leaned against the rock and listened, hoping to hear anything out of the ordinary. The kids huddled together near England, listening too for anything. And they did hear something.

"_Morsmordre_"

A flash of light beamed into the sky, lighting it up with a bright light that was blinding for a moment. Misty in appearance and foggy in shape it swirled until slowly taking shape. England looked up and his mouth dropped. No.

England could hear Hermione's loud gasp and clasping of her hands on her mouth behind him.

No.

England could tell Ron was put off by Hermione's behaviour but had no idea why his friend was acting so.

_Please_ no.

From England's peripheral vision, he could see Harry looking confused and wide-eyed at the floating enigma.

But it was.

A skull was floating in the sky with a snake slithering out of it.

The Dark Mark.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

_I take back what I said. I would rather have all my brothers and that frog here instead of this crap_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

lmao arthur's in a bit of a pinch now eh **_ha._**

ok wrist hurting form writing and bowling the other evening so that's all for tonight but have thank you for the reviews and love! Good night!


	16. Chapter 16

Screams erupted. It echoed through the forest, England's stomach twisted and turned and his heart was beating fast. He kneeled over and coughed up some bile. The hysteria was getting to him and he knew why. The Dark Mark was now brightly lit in the air and everyone knew what that meant. Though, probably not everyone, remembering Ronald and Harry's curious expressions watching the mark.

He could feel Hermione's worrisome eyes boring into his back. Hysteria always did this to him but he'd have to ignore it right now.

Harry called out, "Who's there?" It was no use; the speaker of the chant obviously was gone now.

England took in a sharp breath and grabbed Ronald and Harry's arm, Hermione helping him pick up Harry and pulling them away.

"Harry we have to move come on!" said Hermione.

Harry looked at Hermione inquisitively whose face had gone white, "What's the matter Hermione?"

"It's You-Know-Who's mark!"

England pulled them, "No time to talk let's go now!"

The trio hadn't taken many steps until yelling and loud _pops_ and _cracks_ rung through the air. England and the kids stopped as about 20 wizards surrounded them and started circling them. England held his arms around the kids and steadily eyed the new arrival.

_I've never seen them this fast before_ England thought dryly.

But England was struck with realization when he noticed all the wands were pointed at him and most likely, Harry thought the same thing he did: they were about to get hit with spells. SO he was more than glad when Harry started to grab his friends' arms.

"DUCK!" Harry roared.

England spun quickly and wrapped his arms around the kids, pulling them to him forcefully and tightly and threw himself to the ground, making sure to cover their heads.

Loud _Stupefy_'s were yelled out and flashes of light spurted over their heads. England tried with much effort to cover them with his own body but he knew just one of him wasn't enough.

"STOP SHOOTING!" England bellowed out.

"AS IF WE WOULD YO-"

"AND IF YOU HIT THE MUGGLE INQUISITOR YOU ALL WILL LOSE YOUR WANDS!"

"Muggle In-?"

"STOP! YOU'LL HIT MY SON TOO!"

The flashes of light stopped and England raised his head, seeing Arthur Weasley running towards them. England sighed and carefully pushed himself off the kids. Harry, Ron and Hermione lifted their heads too, watching Mr. Weasley then looking towards the blonde.

Mr. Weasley dropped to his knees and hugged his son. Ronald hugged back.

"Thank God you're all right."

England placed his hands on Harry and Hermione's shoulders.

"Are you two ok? No injuries?"

Hermione nodded but before Harry even opened his mouth a voice spoke.

"Which of you have done it? Which of you have conjured the Dark Mark?!"

England looked incredulously at Barty Crouch who was spewing this nonsense. Was he _mad_?

England stood up looking at the man and almost fell back from the oncoming headache. Hermione quickly rose and grabbed his elbow and England smiled and muttered a _thank you_. Oh the Ministry better do their job and calm down his people.

Arthur stood as well.

Harry shouted, "We didn't do it!" Barty's beady eyes darted between the kids and England, glaring daggers at each one of them.

"Barty they're just kids!" said Arthur.

Barty's eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of his head now. He then looked to England.

"Arthur Kirkland, you were with them, which of these kids did it?!"

"_None_ of them did Barty! I think you need to rel-"

"Who did it?!" Barty returned his wild face to the kids. Ron gulped and did everything he could to avoid his eyes.

A witch standing nearby spoke up, "Sir they're kids they couldn't hav-"

"Quiet!" Barty barked at the witch and spun back to them, "Tell me which of you did it!"

England was about to explode! Why was he so fixated on framing the kids? How could they have known to conjure up the Dark Mark?

Hermione, shakily, raised a pointed finger in the direction of where the spell came from, "I-It came from over there the incantation-"

"Oh from where _you_ conjured it? So you admit your crime!"

"Barty," England placed a firm hand on his shoulder, "stop accusing these kids. You're going mad!"

"Do _not_ touch me Arthur!" Barty sneered, slapping away the blonde's hand, "With the great amount of knowledge you possess of us _you_ could have easily told them what to do!"

England could only blink in response, mouth agape. Dear Lord he _has _gone mad.

Hermione sputtered and spoke up, "N-No he didn't do it! T-The voice we heard was some man with a really deep voice and-"

Barty curtly waved his hand, Hermione stopping obediently mid-sentence, obviously unnerved by the man's current mental state.

During the ongoing conversation, one of the Ministry workers had slipped in the direction of the where Hermione pointed had came stumbling out, holding something in his arms. A limp small body the size of an elf.

"Winky?!" exclaimed Barty.

The Ministry worker nodded and laid Winky on the ground. In her hand was a wand.

"Why does she have a wand?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry's face change to surprise.

"That's my wand!"

Oh no.

Barty spun to Harry then looked to the Ministry worker.

"Check his wand!"

But the man was already on it, "Prior Incantato!"

Green encircled the two wands and ghostly mist came between the wands, a floating skull with a snake protruding from the mouth.

To England's side, Hermione gasped loudly. England knew just as well this was trouble. But, he knew the little elf didn't conjure up the skull. No, the voice wasn't so high and squeaky like hers. It was deep and dark.

The little elf stirred in her sleep and batted her eyes, what she first saw was the light of the wands and she gasped, scrambling to her knees.

"Deletarios!"

The small ghost skull disappeared. Winky looked wildly around her then up to the sky, gasping again at seeing the bigger version of the Dark Mark lighting up the dark sky. She squealed in terror at the sight.

"Winky you conjured up the Dark Mark!"

Winky shook her head furiously, "No! I did not!"

"Do not lie to me!"

"I-I am not! I found i-it over there," pointing in the direction she came from, "lying on the ground!"

England cleared his throat, "You see Barty? She must have found it after someone conjured up the Dark Mark."

Barty's popping eyes turned to England, "You've spoken more than enough _Arthur_."

Oh Barty was _really_ getting on his nerves now. England gritted his teeth. He was glad that he had self control or else he might have slapped, no, punched the crazed man right then and there for his stupidity.

Arthur spoke next, "But he's right Barty. Winky here was just misfortunate enough to pick up the wand!"

Barty spun wildly again to Winky, "Elf! Did you see anyone?"

Winky's trembling grew worse and she shook her head. "N-No master I did not-"

"Amos," Barty interrupted her, looking at the Ministry worker who had brought her. "I know under the circumstances you'd want to take her back for questioning but leave her to me. I will be sure to punish her."

Winky swung her head up, her big eyes seemingly bigger now and filled with terror and worry.

"N-No please-e Master!"

"Mr. Crouch please don't!" said Hermione, "She's so frightened right now and upset you can't just do this to her!"

"She is not your house elf is she girl? So stop your yelling at once!"

Amos handed Harry his wand back and he pocketed it right away.

Arthur placed his hand on England's arm. "Come on I'll take you home. You three let's go back to the tent."

Arthur started walking and both boys followed but Hermione didn't move.

"Hermione!"

England grabbed her shoulders and steered her away. "Let's go, let's see if the others are okay."

England kept Hermione steady as they fumbled their way in the dark woods and finally managing their way out of the trees. A crowd gathered and all kinds of questions were being shouted and whispered at Arthur. Arthur, as pleasantly as he could, told them the spell was from some unknown person and that there looking for the culprit now and that he'd like to get back to his tent.

Arthur had his arm around his son and England decided he'd grab Harry so they could get through the crowd together. Harry looked up at the sudden touch but didn't say a word.

England's jaw was clenched tight. He may have prayed for _anything_ other than his brother showing up at the game, this is not what he had in mind.

The group came to what England assumed to be their tent. A few heads popped out of more red hair, one being Percy but the other two he didn't know. Were there more Weasley's?

_Is there a whole clan of them?_ England wondered.

"Arthur, please come in." England heard Arthur and nodded, pushing Hermione and Harry inside and let go of them.

As soon as they entered a small argument erupted, mostly coming from Hermione and Percy talking about Winky the house elf.

But… England gasped and leaned onto the nearest chair, grabbing his chest. The riots that happened just now hit him; all the magic used against each other and the injuries was just-

"Arthur take a seat. You must be in shock since this is all new to you."

England smiled weakly and thanked Arthur, gladly taking the seat. England placed his elbows on his knees and hunched over, breathing in and out slowly. He could feel the eyes now watching him but didn't pay any mind to them. All he just needed was a few moments rest.

Harry watched the man hunched over he seemed so worn out. They were running a lot but he seemed so young so why was so tired?

"But can somebody tell me about the skull? Why is it such a big deal?" Ron spoke up, very confused.

England's mouth twitched as heard some gruff response from the brothers. It's an honest question really; it was before his time anyways.

"I told you Ronald it's You-Know-Who's mark! That is why everyone is so panicked!"

"But why is it such a big-"

"Because Ron, it was a sign of death. You-Know-Who and his followers sent it out and it meant to go and kill. Just imagine going home one day and find it hovering over you home and realizing…."

Arthur stopped talking. He resigned himself to silence.

England gripped his hair and gritted his teeth. Oh he remembered those nights, hiding in the dark and looking at the crime scene, seeing the Dark Mark hovering over homes, officials bringing out limp bodies. To think it was coming again. So soon.

Even this one night had put a huge weight on England, he couldn't breathe properly and his chest, his heart, was prickling so much. He knew someone must have died because of those fucking Death Eaters, remembering those people floating limply in the air. He'd needed to check that out later.

England lifted his head, "I think I'll step outside for some fresh air."

Before anyone could respond the nation stood and weakly walked out the opening. When he stepped out all he could breathe in was stuffy air mixed with ashes. Looking around there were still some tents burning. England walked a bit farther out, breathing in and out and then stopped and hunched forward again, leaning on his knees and breathing slowly in and out, in and out…

England's rapid heartbeat finally slowed but the emotions swimming in him were his people's fears and terrors. It's happening again. Terror was rising.

"Arthur?"

England raised his head, looking over his shoulder. Arthur walked out tiredly, coming to his side. He looked twice his age and his red hair was now wild looking.

"Your first magic experience and it ends like this, I'm so sorry."

England shook his head and stood up, "It's not your fault. I'm glad I came, I now know what I'm getting myself into."

Arthur sighed, "But you shouldn't have to. No one should."

Arthur patted the blonde's back, "Come on, I'll take you home."

England removed his hand, "No, I can get back on my own. You should stay here with your family and with Harry and Hermione. They need you."

Arthur watched him, "I-I, are you sure?"

England clasped his hand, shaking it gently, "I'm sure. I know the way back. Goodnight Arthur."

England could tell Arthur didn't like hearing that but he could tell Arthur knew he should stay with his family. His family needed him right now. England, well, he was alone so he didn't have to worry about people, or have people worry about him.

It's always been this way.

"Ok, goodnight Arthur. Be careful."

England smiled and walked away, feeling the eyes of Mr. Weasley burrowing in his back until he turned a corner. Walking down more rows and rows of tents until he was sure he was alone, he left with a small _pop_.

Arriving in his parlor, England headed to the next room and bee-lined for the desk, grabbing paper and pen and hurriedly writing the news down. He muttered a spell and two papers and pens set down next to him and started copying his writing. He had to tell the others what just happened.

"Fuck!"

England stopped and threw his pen across the room. What a damn fool he was.

England covered his face with his arm and leaned back on his chair, he could see the muggles flying in circles, the two children being spun around and looking as limp as ragdolls. Then unwillingly his mind raced back to the first Wizarding War.

Fire.

Bodies being taken out of homes

Screams.

The Dark Mark.

Blood.

Everywhere.

With his left hand England grabbed his heart, no, it wasn't his people causing it. His heart was hurting again. So badly.

And he was crying.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I'm a bit annoyed because I told most of you that I'd have this up the other night or so but my mom had kept the charger all to herself so I couldn't charge my computer and two I went to the beach Wednesday and guess what? I got sunburned yea but I got sunburned on practically my whole body (both front and back of my legs, stomach and chest, shoulders, back, upper thighs and a bit of my hips. Even the back of my knees wtf) so it hurt to move for the past two days. This is why you need to read instructions very _very_ carefully.

But yes bby arthur tho ah

Thank you all for reading and for the reviews and everything! I love them so much! And of course if you have questions ask away I don't mind! Ciao!


	17. Chapter 17

Harry, Ron and Hermione had all gathered in Ron's attic-like room after finishing their chores and being shooed away as Mrs. Weasley was making dinner. Harry told Ron and Hermione about his scar hurting days earlier and his weird dream. He knew Hermione would be the most worried and frazzled hearing it and she was and Ron was just, well, Ron.

Harry sighed and sat on the bed next to Ron. What a long night it'd been. He couldn't wait to sleep this night.

Hermione spoke up, "But what about Arthur last night?"

Ron looked at her confused, "What about my dad?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, taking her seat next to Harry.

"Not your dad Ron, I meant Arthur Kirkland. Just, I don't know. Everything he did last night was so, unusual."

Harry had to agree. Everything about him was unusual and last night confirmed it.

"You mean like how he threatened Draco? Because that was bloody brilliant."

Harry smiled remembering that and Hermione almost smacked Ron.

"No that's not what I meant, but it was a little amusing. But why was he threatening him? For a muggle, he didn't seem very scared. And he seemed really, comfortable being around so much magic."

"Until he threw up." Harry said.

Hermione nodded shortly, "Until he threw up yes but-"

"So what, if he acted like a leader and he's comfortable with witches and wizards? He's still a muggle _and_ he broke Harry's promise so it doesn't matter. We're never going to see him again." Ron rambled.

"He looked the same," said Harry.

Ron looked at the no longer quiet Harry as did Hermione, "What do you mean mate?"

"The ma- Arthur I mean. He looked the exact same like he did when I was 8. Like he hadn't aged."

Hermione raised her hand, trying to think of something, "Well maybe he just ages well, you know. People can look 30 when their 50 so he probably just ages well."

"And another thing," Harry started, "Why is he passing himself off as a Muggle Inquisitor? I know for a fact he did magic, he fixed my glasses! He didn't even need to say the spell or wand to fix them!"

"Wait _what_?"

The boys looked at Hermione.

"What?"

"You said he fixed your glasses without speaking _and_ without a wand?"

"Yea so?"

"I-I just I-" Hermione stuttered and shook her head. Harry patted her shoulder.

"What is it Hermione?"

"Only truly advanced wizards can use spells without wands and use nonverbal spells. And yet Arthur Kirkland is passing himself as a muggle? Why?"

Ron looked dumbstruck and Harry was too. Truly _advanced_ wizards? So if, no not if, Hermione was _always_ right, Hermione was right, why, if he was such an advanced wizard, passing himself off as a muggle? Harry remembered something.

"I remember my Aunt saying something to my Uncle one day, when I was in my closet, days after I met Arthur. She was trying to talk quietly to my Uncle but she said something like the man was somebody of high importance and could get my Aunt and Uncle in trouble."

"Importance?" asked Hermione.

Ron blew air out shaking his head, "What the hell Harry, what sort of man did you get yourself involved with?"

"I don't know, but after meeting him the first time, my family wasn't so strict with me after, sort of, so I guess whatever he said to them really scared them."

"Harry, remember when Draco was gloating about the big event coming up at Hogwarts, what if, as Muggle Inquisitor, Arthur will be there?" said Hermione.

Harry and Ron turned to Hermione confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Hermione started, "I remember Percy talking about the new Muggle Inquisitor who's been insisting to attend the event coming up, to make sure muggleborn students aren't in harms way. I think that's what a Muggle Inquisitor is."

"Well I've never heard of it but if it's true, then-"

"We'll be seeing him again. Great." Harry sighed. He did _not_ want to see him again. Or to see that bright smile or having his hair ruffled by him.

"Whether you like it or not Harry, you're going to have to come to terms with him. You should do it soon. There may have been a reason why didn't come when he said he would." Hermione said, closing her book shut.

Ron snorted, "Soon? Hermione he broke his promise! Can't go back on a promise Hermione don't you know that?"

Hermione only rolled her eyes and mumbled something like _boys_ under her breath.

"But do you remember the way he acted in the tent?" Harry asked, he couldn't stop himself. "Like he was in pain?"

Ron shook his head, "He's just a nutter Harry, and so whatever he does is mental."

Hermione reached around Harry and smacked Ron with her book and he jumped and arched his back in pain. Hermione huffed and placed her book on her lap.

"Maybe if you were more aware of your surroundings then you'd be just as curious as Harry. Yes Harry, he did looked to be in pain. Curious don't you think? Since he obviously didn't get hurt or anything."

Harry nodded his head slowly but stopped and absentmindedly rubbed his scar. He could hear Hermione's breath hitch and he looked at her.

"What is it?"

"It's hurting again isn't it? Your scar?"

Harry shook his head, "No just a little headache. It's ok really."

Hermione sighed. "If it does just tell us ok?"

Ron patted his shoulder heartily, "Yea we're here for you mate!"

Harry smiled, "Ok, thanks."

That's right, he has friends now.

So he didn't really needed Arthur anymore.

Right?

* * *

**Author's Note: **

For compensation for not posting the chapter on time like I said I would, I posted this chapter now because, one, I have time and I feel like writing, two, I found the Phantom of the Opera 25th soundtrack so it's got me all hyped up. Oh Ramin Karimloo his voice I love so much.

Ok so yes here it is enjoy!


	18. Chapter 18

Arthur Weasley is a wonderful husband and loving father. He'd do all he could to support his family and never doubt his children and always listen. So when he heard small sniffles behind one of the trash cans passing by an alleyway, he knew that he had to help.

Arthur slowly stepped over garbage bags and keeping away from the sticky wall and dumpster, carefully squeezing through. Once past this obstacle, he looked down and crouched, rubbing the small boy's shoulder. He jumped and shot his head up, wide blue eyes watching the unknown man.

Oh dear it looks like he's been through hell and back. His pale face scratched and a purple, bluish bruise starting to form on his left cheek. His coat had scratches up and down his sleeves and his shorts showed his scraped up knees and he seemed to be missing a shoe. His eyes were red and puffy and his little red nose had some snot coming down.

Arthur Weasley took out his handkerchief and offered it to the boy cautiously. He immediately took it and blew his nose into it. Arthur smiled. He also took note of the boy's surprisingly large eyebrows.

"There there. Are you separated from your parents?"

The boy shook his head frantically.

"No! I was looking all night for my stupid brother's house b-but I forgot where he lived!" he said, pouting his lips and sniffling again.

Arthur silently laughed, "I see, do you need help looking? I'd be more than happy to help."

The boys wide eyes seemed to grow even more, if that was possible, and he nodded his head really fast and jumped to his feet.

"Yes! Take me to him!"

Arthur laughed even more and stood up, brushing the dust off his pants. The little boy quickly squeezed through the opening and Arthur tried his best to be as quick as him. Amazing change in attitude this boy had!

The boy spun around and looked to Arthur, putting a hand on his hip and pointing a finger to the red head man.

"I am the Great Sea-kun and you should be honored to be escorting me!'

Arthur gave a quick bow and swooped his arms out, "I am most definitely honored."

The boy laughed heartily and Arthur straightened up and watched delightfully at the boy's newfound happiness.

"Now take me to my jerk brother!"

The boy seemed to take charge and start walking in a random direction and Arthur followed in suit.

"I will. Now tell me, what is your brother's name? I happen to be looking for someone in the area so he might be close by."

The boy seemed to _tch_ and folded his arms across his chest.

"He goes by Arthur Kirkland but to me he's a big stupid jerk!"

Arthur Weasley almost tripped over his own two feet. Arthur Kirkland had a brother? Wait…

What did he mean by 'the name he goes by'?

Arthur shook his head and speed walked to catch up to the boy who was looking at everything, trying to discern which place seemed to be his brother's house.

"You're Arthur Kirkland's brother? Marvelous! He's just the man I was looking for and I know where he lives!"

The boy stopped mid step and Arthur almost ran into him and knocked him over. The boy spun around and looked at the man in surprise.

"He has a _friend_? Unbelievable!"

Arthur chuckled dryly, not to sure if it was a joke or not.

"Well since I know where he is, let me take you to him. It's just down this," pointing at the street to his right, "street so lets go-uh, what's your name son?"

The boy seemed to be struck with realization and had already sprinted down the street and Arthur jogged to catch up to the boy. The boy stopped in front of a tall, at least 6 story, building.

Arthur caught up and was undoubtedly out of breath, but he did his best to keep his panting to a minimum. Arthur looked at the boy and he pointed upwards.

"Now I remember! Top level! I'm gonna punch his stupid face for leaving me!"

The boy pushed past people who grunted or yelled at him and Arthur sighed heavily and began to jog quickly again to not lose sight of the boy. Merlin's Beard his own kids were never this fast!

The boy seemed to be in an elevator by the time Arthur entered and the boy frantically waved his hands for him to come over. Arthur smiled faintly and quickly paced to the boy, the doors closing just behind him.

"Took you long enough!"

Arthur leaned against the wall and laughed but his laughing seemed to be just him blowing air and trying to breath.

"I've never had to run after a kid as fast as you!"

The boy seemed to smirk and had a face of pride.

"Well I _am_ pretty fast. That's because I am the greatest in the world!"

_Ding_

The doors opened and the boy skipped out but he seemed to remember his scraped knees and current condition because he gave a small little whimper and kneeled down, rubbing his knees. Arthur hurried over and rubbed the boy's back.

"I'm sure your brother will have something for that."

The boy grimaced and nodded, walking slowly down the hall and stopping in front of a door. Well, the adrenaline rush certainly had run out of this boy as quickly as it had come.

But what now held his attention were the loud yelling and banging come from what he assumed to be Arthur Kirkland's home. The boy jumped and pulled his hand away from the door, deciding not to knock.

Arthur rubbed his shoulder and raised his other hand, knocking for him. The loud commotion had ceased after the first two knocks. Some rustling and murmurs were heard next and a noticeably loud _THUD_. Footsteps quickly rushed to the door, the jingling of a lock and the door swung open.

Arthur Kirkland stood before his guests with his blonde hair even more ruffled, noticeably paler complexion and dark circles under his eyes. At the sight of Mr. Weasley, Arthur quickly patted his hair and shirt down, pulling on a smile.

"Hello Arthur! I didn't expect to see you!"

Arthur Weasley smiled and shook his hand, blinking in surprise. His grip was considerably weaker compared to yesterday.

"My Arthur it looks like you haven't had a wink of sleep! Is everything a-"

Arthur Kirkland grunted, hunched over in pain and fell to his knees, grabbing his torso.

"Don't ignore me stupid jerk!"

Loud laughing floated from the living area and another man stepped into view, blonde wavy hair and bright blue eyes.

"Getting punched by your own brother my _my_~"

"Shut the hell up Francis!" Arthur barked back. He turned his head to the boy and opened his mouth to shout at him too but stopped. He quickly grabbed the boy's chin and brought it close to his own to examine.

"Peter what the bloody hell happened to you?!"

The boy, now known as Peter, started to sniffle again but did his best to try and hold it back. Mr. Weasley rubbed his shoulders and spoke.

"I found him crying in one of the alleyways. He said he spent all night looking for you Arthur."

The blonde man tilted his head and returned his gaze to his brother, carefully looking up and down, noticing the scratches and scrapes the boy had on him.

Arthur sighed and ruffled Peter's hair. "Come in Peter and let me tend to you."

The boy only nodded and followed him; Arthur followed other Arthur and Peter inside. Kirkland's other guest, known as Francis, patted the boy's head as he sat down on the couch; the boy sat next to him and crossed his arms again, trying to refrain from crying again.

Arthur Kirkland returned with a box and a small circular tube and sat on the coffee table in front of Peter.

"Please have a seat Arthur," The blonde motioned to the chair next to the couch by the blue-eyed man.

Arthur nodded and muttered a _thank you_, happily obliging. "And please, call me Mr. Weasley. You remind me of my own boys so it's weird having you say my first name Arthur."

Arthur smiled weakly and nodded, opening the tube, swiping a finger over it and dabbing it lightly to the boy's scratches who flinched in return.

"It'll be done quickly if you don't move Peter. And where did you run off to yesterday?"

The boy clenched his fists and avoided looking in his brother's eyes.

"N-No where in particular."

Francis chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear watching the boy being tended to.

"Really?"

Arthur frowned and purposefully dabbed harder on Peter's cheek who yelped.

"What the hell you stupid jerk?!"

Arthur flicked his nose.

"You better be thankful Berwald didn't show up today Peter or else he'd have your head for that language. And you snuck into the Quidditch players section didn't you?"

The boy gasped and once again did all he could to avoid Arthur's all knowing eyes.

Mr. Weasley, however, was very curious.

"Peter is a wizard Arthur? Marvelous! Is he the reason why you wanted to become a Muggle Inquisitor?"

Arthur stopped momentarily before grabbing the box, pulling out some small strips unbeknownst of what they are to Mr. Weasley.

"Yes," was his short reply. Mr. Weasley didn't question further.

He pulled the strip open and looked back at Peter.

"Now tell me, what _happened_ Peter. I couldn't find you last night."

Peter pushed himself into the couch, not really wanting to reply.

"Peter."

The boys lower lip quivered and he fiddled with his thumbs. He looked _terrified_ to say the least.

"I-I watched the game and after that I was walking through the tents when I saw something floating in the air." Peter lowered his chin to his chest and shivered, remembering _what_ was floating in the air. Mr. Weasley grimmeced and Franics did as well. Arthur had a blank expression and leaned to the unoccupied blue chair that had a blanket. Arthur had taken off his wet socks and one shoe and his torn coat, draping him in a blanket.

"Then people were running and pushing me. One of those masked people g-grabbed me and punched me and was starting to curse but I bit him and ran into the forest." Peter snuggled into the blanket, eyes drooping a little until he succumbed to sleep. This kid was quick to change his mood and quick to fall asleep. His chest moved up and down slow, his mouth open.

Arthur patted his head gently and stood up, picking up the items he brought and returning to the other room and coming back, rubbing his forehead.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley. I was worried what happened to him last night."

Mr. Weasley gave a small smile but then lowered his head, eyes fixated on Arthur.

"And I was worried about you Arthur. And for good reason too, you need sleep."

Arthur sighed and sat onto Peter's left side, fixing the blanket that was slipping down.

"I had some business to attend to with him." Arthur carelessly motioned his hand to Francis.

Francis beamed and looked to Mr. Weasley, "_Bonjour_~ Je m'apple Francis Bonnefoy, et toi?"

Mr. Weasley had absolutely _no_ idea what the man said but he assumed he introduced himself as Francis Bonnefoy.

"Lovely to meet you, I'm Arthur Weasley. I work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts."

Francis bobbed his head in a nod, "Such interesting jobs they have here in England!"

Arthur looked about ready to smack the man but decided against it.

"Don't even start Francis," Arthur mumbled sleepily.

Mr. Weasley quietly laughed, watching the green-eyed fellow's head drooping little by little. He stood up and padded softly to Arthur and patted his shoulder.

"I'm glad to see someone's taking care of you Arthur. Compared to me, you should be the one running about and not be up so much. Sleep well and I hope to see you again soon."

Arthur smiled softly and nodded and with a final glance over the sleeping boy (who had somehow crawled upside down on Arthur's lap mid sleep) and a sturdy nod to the French man, Mr. Weasley left the home of Arthur Kirkland.

Before closing the door behind him, Mr. Weasley couldn't help but be curious about Arthur.

He is a very interesting man.

_Thud_

Francis sighed and rolled his head back, his hair dangling over the couch. He chuckled dryly.

Arthur blinked and drew his eyes to the French man.

"What is it?"

"It's funny that we're hundreds of years old but yet we never age really."

England sighed and closed his eyes.

"Just let me sleep frog."

France chuckled again and fell into silence. Moments later, he could hear the soft snores of Great Britain by him. France looked over, smiling at the scene.

Young Sealand was curled up almost cat like on England's lap, the man's hand carefully placed on the boy's small head.

France couldn't help but think it was actually really cute. To see him so peaceful this one moment.

Too bad the storm was coming back.

And England couldn't do anything about it.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I actually hadn't planned on putting this chapter in but after reading some reviews where people were distressed over the disappearance of Sealand, I had to put it in and I'm glad I did. One, brother time bc i love it so much. Two, I actually don't like the whole ~SKIP TO 3 MONTHS~ thing and whole time skip to much without explanation really unless absolutely necessary so this is a good chapter to put it in.

ah big brother bby iggy -3- I wonder what will happen next chapter O:

Thank you for the lovely reviews and thank you for reading!


	19. Chapter 19

Another World meeting was planned for this week but England would not be attending.

He couldn't, not after the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. It was his decision and his decision alone to make himself as scarce as possible with the other countries, not to his boss' pleasure.

To England, being near the other countries made them targets and even if Voldemort has yet to discover his identity, it was still best his best option. Threatening the safety of the other countries (though he wouldn't admit aloud) was something he could not risk at all.

It didn't come as much of a surprise to other countries who didn't really bother too much with others affairs and when it came to England, nobody was too keen on asking anything about his personal matters.

Well except for the obnoxious American who persistently kept pressing his luck trying to fly to the great nation England but failed miserably every time because of certain new restrictions set forth by high government officials, not allowing the loud mouth country go past customs. England knew it frustrated America greatly but it was the only way to keep him safe.

He's even asked, no, more like pleaded to Sweden and Finland to keep Sealand with them at all costs. He knew they'd say yes but he had to get it across how important this was.

Thankfully Canada has more than agreed to help hold back America. It may not seemed like it but between the two brothers, Canada was stronger than America. Having the gentle boy help him was great help, but what he was doing now was best of all. If it meant protecting that frog, his bro- America, and everyone else, he was willing to do it.

Yes England knew it was stupid to just cut off all his ties (with what little he had) with the other nations but if Tom ever got whiff of who he was or how he could use someone other England, then everyone was screwed.

Well, he still had to keep in contact with Sweden, Norway and that annoying twat just across the channel for his plan to work.

Everything depended on them at this point. But once he gets in, it'll fall onto his shoulders and his alone. Then he would truly be alone in this battle.

_But_, England thought, smiling solemnly, _I guess Harry is just like me._

This truly was a war that shouldn't have happened.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I cannot believe it has been a month since my last update and I'm sorry to everyone but I;m hoping to stay in the groove and keep writing more chapters. Hey we might have another 2 chapters tonight idk we'll see.

But yea this is a filler but I like them sometimes so I decided to incorporate it! Also what got me back into this was the new chapter of Price of Wisdom (have you read that yet? I highly suggest you do)

I've also read all your reviews and loved them! Sorry but the messaging system is very confusing for my tiny squirrel brain so I haven't replied to anyone yet. Thank you for reading and have a lovely night!


	20. Chapter 20

October 30, 1994

Harry stood eagerly between Ron and Hermione. Today the delegations from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were coming and just like the rest of the school, Harry was excited. He could hardly contain himself until Semaus Finnigan spoke up.

"Oi, who do you reckon that guy standing next to Dumbledore is?"

Some students looked in the direction while others ignored him, preferring to watch for the schools to come. However, Harry decided to follow Seamus' gaze, his stomach dropping when his green eyes saw those thick eyebrows and blonde hair.

His nightmares of the strange house and man were one thing but having to see _him_ again was something Harry wished desperately unsee.

Arthur Kirkland was dressed in a clean, wrinkle-free muggle suit and patiently stood with hands folded in front of him next to Dumbledore. With heads bowed low, Dumbledore and Arthur seemed to be speaking in low voices but neither seemed uncomfortable, like it wasn't their first time meeting.

"See I told you!" whispered Ron to Harry and Hermione. Harry elbowed Ron roughly in the ribs, making him yelp.

"Harry, you should talk to him."

"Look Hermion-"

A sixth year two rows behind the trio yelled and pointed in the sky, "There!"

All eyes now looked to the sky, seeing something flying in the air. One girl screamed dragon and nearly fainted. But Dennis Creevy yelled it was more like a flying house. Well, he wasn't too wrong on that, it was actually a flying carriage being lead by enormous golden horses.

The carriage swooped down, the horses reaching the ground first then the carriage bouncing after it. Harry ignored the presence of Arthur and focused his attention on the exiting students, late teen boys and girls who weren't really dressed warmly for the autumn weather, following a huge woman dressed in dark clothing and opals decorating her magnificent dress.

Gracefully walking beside her was a man that Harry couldn't see the front of but from what he could tell from his rear view, he had blonde wavy hair and he seemed… familiar with Arthur, as he was waving to him but Arthur was giving him disgusted looks and muttering under his breath.

"Who's the guy standing next to the giant woman? He seems to be real cheeky with Arthur.," asked Ron.

"I don't know but Arthur doesn't look happy," Harry replied, not really wanting to focus his attention on the two men.

After words were passed between the two Heads, Beauxbaton went inside to warm up. England was a much different weather than France so it wasn't necessary for them to be in the cold for too long. Now all that was left was Durmstrang.

Harry ignored Arthur and focused his attention to the sky because like Beauxbaton, Durmstrang would have a grand entrance too right?

People were talking saying they'd be coming in carriage too. If so it'd be another replay of the previous schoo-

"The lake!" Lee Jordan pointed to the lake across the lawns.

The smooth dark waters were rippling but slowly something pointy and glistening brightly in the moonlight erupted from the waters.

"A mast!" Harry exclaimed.

And yes, it was a mast. Rising out of the moonlit waters, a skeletal looking ship appeared and it looked like something from a ghost story from old sailors. It was truly a sight to see.

The loud noise of a plank was heard and heavy footsteps walking on it, _thud thud thud_ continuously from the plank and onto the lawns, a big mass of black and brown coming from the ship. Though what made them seem big were their giant matted fur coats. They looked like they just came right out of snowstorm and hadn't realized that it was no longer snowing.

A man was heading the group, with two blondes at his side, (one tall and wearing glasses, the short one with strange violet eyes) making their way to Hogwarts' entrance. This time when the two Heads were greeting each other, the blonde men shook hands with Arthur and Arthur looked happier (compared to his last encounter); did they know each other too?

"Blimey how many people does Arthur know?"

Harry could only shrug. Arthur _was_ in the government so it's only natural that he'd know peoples from other countries.

Then Ron punched Harry.

"What the hell Ron?"

"Harry, it's Viktor Krum!"

Harry looked up and sure enough, the notorious black eyebrows and round nose were a dead give away. Viktor Krum was here! At Hogwarts!

"Ron he's just a Quidditch player so calm down."

"_Just_ a Quidditch player? Hermione, that's like saying Merlin was _just_ a wizard!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Goodness these _fanboys_. Excited murmurs turned into excited shouts because such a _celebrity_ was at _their school_. All the students were now being escorted into the Great Hall, many girls' frantically searching pockets for a spare quill. Even Ron was looking for a quill.

"Harry do you have a quill on you?"

"No, it's in my bag."

"Damn!"

After everyone had settled and had their feast, (Ron and many boys goggling at the blue eyed blonde Veela from Beauxbatons practically the whole dinner) Dumbledore stood up, waving a hand through the air. Silence ensued instantly as heads bobbed towards the direction of the Headmaster. Harry raised his head and looked at the staff table, seeing Arthur was beside Dumbledore and the other unknown men beside their own Headmasters. Really who _were_ they?

Several seats down from Harry, Fred and George inclined forward, listening _very_ intensely when Dumbledore began his speech and introducing Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman (both who came in before the feast and Ludo having a large round of applause when mentioned). Barty didn't smile nor clap when Ludo was mentioned. Touchy touchy.

"-And I'm sure you're all wondering who these gentlemen beside us Headmasters are. They too will be on the judge of panels for this year's games. Now let me introduce them to you all."

Dumbedore's robes swayed with his movements when gesturing to Durmstrang, "From Durmstrang Institute we have Lukas Bondevik," the short man stood up, his violet eyes bright and calculating eyeing all the students carefully, "and Berwald Oxenstierna," the tall man standing, his intense aura and face watching the crowd. Many students backed into each other and looked away. He does have an intimidating look. "They will be advisors from their governments to make sure nothing gets out of hand."

"He's scarier looking than Snape!"

Harry snickered until Hermione smacked Ron and he. "Don't be so rude!"

"From Beauxbatons, Francis Bonnefoy, the advisor from France, " Dumbledore waved his hand to the man that Arthur looked disgusted with. Francis jumped to his feet and swung his hair, eyeing the crowd seductively. Many girls' seemed to stop breathing and many boys seemed in awe. Even Hermione couldn't hold back her small sigh and smile.

"My I am glad to be here! And to see such beautiful people sitting before me~"

He blew a kiss to the crowd. He literally blew a kiss to the students and adults. A mix of groans and awes bubbled up from this display. From the corner of Harry's eyes, he watched Arthur almost slammed his head on the table.

"Thank you for those kind words Francis." Dumbledore gleamed.

Francis nodded and bowed to the crowd. Many people gasped and clapped. Ron shook his head in disbelief.

"And finally we have Arthur Kirkland." Arthur stood and bowed a little, giving very annoyed looks at Francis who was winking at some kids in the front. Arthur then moved his eyes to the students who only whispered wild conspiracies of what he must be like.

"Arthur is our Muggle Inquisitor who will be here to judge the dangers of these tasks for our muggleborn students, even if they're not participating. Now please take care of our guests," Dumbledore ended his introduction, sending a warning look to the mischievous looking twins.

The hall applauded and the men sat down in unison.

"Mr. Filch."

Argus Filch appeared in view, coming from some unknown corner that he had been lurking in for who knows how long, carrying a wooden case. He set the case down beside Dumbledore before scurrying away.

"Now, the Triwizard Tournament has been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman countless times to ensure as much safety as possible. There will be three tasks and the students with the highest number of points, granted by our judges, will be the winner."

Glees echoed across the hall and Dumbledore unveiled his wand.

"The champions will be chosen by the Goblet of Fire."

With the _tap tap tap_ of his wand on the box, the lid opened in a dramatic slow motion way and Dumbledore reached inside, pulling out a large wooden cup brimming with blue fire. Harry looked in awe, having never seen something so remarkable. Curious, Harry looked at Arthur who was watching the blue fire not in awe, but with something else. His hand clenched his napkin tightly. Harry looked back to the Headmaster.

"Anybody wishing to enter, simply write your name down on a slip of parchment and your school and put it in the fie. The Goblet will decide on each student's traits for the selection as champion. It will be based on their bravery, intelligence, and magical prowess."

People were brimming with excitement but Dumbledore waved a hand, bringing the attention back to him.

"However, throwing your name into the goblet means you will sign a magical contract, one that cannot be backed out of. As you know, three champions will be selected form each school. There is a 24 hour time frame for entering and the Goblet of Fire will be placed in the entrance hall tonight."

People clapped and Fred and George high-fived each other.

"Ah ah," Dumbledore lifted a thin finger, "you must be 17 to enter. To make sure no underage students enter," Dumbledore eyed the twins, "I will be drawing an Age Line around it."

Loud groans echoed through out the hall.

"One last thing," he spoke sternly, gathering the attention of the student body back to him once more, "do not take these games lightly, it is not for the feint of heart. There will be no change of heart once putting your name in it. Do be prepared and brave. Off to bed with you all."

Fred and George had a put their heads together, whispering and smiling as they made their way out.

"Well this is going to be excitng isn't Harry?"

Hermione huffed loudly, "Ron haven't you read _anything_ about these games?"

Ron shook his head, "No but if it's games then it's ought to be fun eh?"

Harry hadn't paid any mind to his best friends, only watching Arthur Kirkland who held a blank expression ever since the Goblet came out. An almost blank, _dead_ expression.

Harry scanned the sea of faces to catch sight of the other advisors. He was shocked to see they had the same expression as Arthur. Looking towards -who was it? Oh right - Francis, Harry stared as the French man glided to Arthur Kirkland, leaning over and muttering something into his ear. Arthur, who jumped a little at the action, listened then nodded.

Arthur had then caught the eyes of the two Nordics who seemed to understand to follow the English man as they all stood up and exited the Great Hall.

Harry was shaken out of his daze from a soft hand. He looked to the owner and saw a worried Hermione and Ron.

She bowed her head towards him and in a hushed tone spoke, "Is your scar hurting again Harry?"

The boy blinked but shook his head, pushing himself up. "No, I was just thinking."

With witch and Weasley in suit, they too exited the Great Hall.

Having the games being held during his time at Hogwarts, well it was nice break because Harry _really_ didn't want to be bothered by Voldemort this year too.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

/low whistle

Damn 20 chapters who knew! BUT this will be my last chapter for the night so have a lovely evening and thanks for reading!


	21. Chapter 21

October 31, 1994

The dreaded day has finally arrived.

The blonde man sighed heavily.

The castle was alive with excitement as were the students.

Opening weary green eyes, he straightened his back and stretched his tired muscles.

Excited glees from students passed by him in groups as he rolled his neck and shoulders. _Crack_. Wow he _really_ needed a massage.

England sighed and hunched over, heavily relying on his elbows leaning on his knees for support.

Being a personified nation really gets one thinking. England would replay his memories over and over again, the good, the bad, and the despair. Especially the despair. The decisions he's made, the regrets.

Letting his people die is one of his greatest despairs.

Letting them die because of his own stupid ideas, those were the idea- no - _regrets_ that kept him up at night.

He hadn't eaten anything last night, and after the quick meeting with the Nordics and France, reviewing the plan again and putting up protective charms in each of their rooms, England had gone straight to bed, but didn't fall asleep.

The whole night he stayed up, restlessly tossing and turning, sweat creating a thin layer upon his body. Each time he closed his eyes, he'd immediately wake up in terror. After one too many jolted awakes, England decided all together that sleep wasn't necessary, well it _was_ necessary but for him it wouldn't be gracing him that night.

"Arthur."

He looked up to the voice, seeing violet eyes with sagging dark bags beneath watching him. Norway hadn't slept either.

"Seeing as you and I hadn't slept a wink last night, I'm going to assume neither did Berwald or Francis."

Norway nodded and checked his watch.

"Have you been here all day Arthur?"

The nation sighed and heaved, sluggishly rising and arching his back to crack. _Crack_.

England blinked and surveyed his surroundings, he had spent all day in the far most hall that had an extraordinary view of the castle, and luckily it hadn't changed since his days at the school. And luckily again, nobody had discovered this quiet sanctuary, until Norway came. Though, he already knew the school just as well, even with the changes.

"Yeah, but I wished I brought a chair or something, my arse is so fucking numb I can't walk right."

The briefest of smiles graced the Norwegian's lips. "The Muggle Inquisitor shouldn't be using such language."

Walking, the British man chuckled hoarsely, "It's second nature to me, I can't let that go so easily."

Descending the stairs, England eyed the steady hand Norway had on the sleek marble. With the way he was tripping over his own feet, he needed the support.

The feast was to begin in less than a minute, Norway and England just barely arriving before it began.

His lips lifted into a smile looking at the newly decorated hall. Hundreds of carved pumpkins hung stringlessly in the air with candles glowing inside them. Floating candles sprinkled in between the pumpkins adding more to illumination and to the overall eerie glow perfect for Halloween. Those flying bats also helped give it more character with their beady little eyes watching from their heavenly perches.

It was one of England's favorite days of the year.

The two hurriedly paced to the front table taking their designated seats beside their Headmasters. Sweden gave him a short nod and England returned it, noticing his pale face. Looking to France, England noticed his hair was unruly and he didn't properly shave to get that handsome, almost-shaved appearance he usually has. It wasn't becoming of him.

This evening, the four nations bore soulless smiles.

England slightly jumped at the sudden appearance of his food. _Like that wasn't pathetic_.

England clenched his hand before eating; not paying any mind to the excitement that filled the Great Hall. He just couldn't.

After a few small bites, he finished eating, deciding that he was done, and leaned back in his chair.

"Arthur," Dumbledore leaned over, "Please eat."

England slowly blinked but smiled weakly, "Please don't worry about me Albus, but do tell me," England jerked his head towards the big scarred man on the flipside of the table, "who is that man?"

Dumbledore followed his line of sight, "That is Alastor Moody, if you remember his face from the Prophet during the First War."

England looked the man over from his ruddy jacket and layers of clothes to his scarred face and the unusual eye strapped to his head, whirring and turning. From the jerky movements and beady normal eye that stared only straight ahead, it wasn't to hard to tell he was paranoid.

"Oh right, the retired Aurora. Though I must say..." England's mouth stopped in thought.

"Arthur?"

"No it's nothing Albus."

The feast finished without a hitch and the golden plates were magically clean. It was then that the hall ceased all noises. It seemed like everyone had even stopped _breathing_.

Absently, England's eyes flicked to Harry. The boy seemed excited.

The Goblet had been placed before the staff table before the feast and now standing beside it was Dumbledore with his wand drawn. With a grand wave, the candles outside the pumpkins blew out and now the atmosphere heightened.

_Here we go_.

The goblet's flame continued to dance in blue until red sparked from the heart and consumed the flames and a tongue of fire spat out a charred parchment.

With much ease and agility, Dumbledore grabbed the paper and unfolded the paper.

"Our first champion is, Viktor Krum!"

Cheers erupted, mostly from Durmstrang. Viktor slouched and made his way to the front, shaking hands with Dumbledore before being pointed to the door leading to the adjacent room.

As quickly as it started, the sound ceased.

Another spout of fire erupted in red and another parchment of paper floated up then down to the already open palm of the Hogwart's Head.

"The next champion is, Fleur Delacour!"

Excited cheers came from Beauxbatons, the half-Veela gliding to the front then making her way to the next chamber.

And last but not least, the final flash of red glowed and the trail of flame vanished, leaving the only paper left to be grabbed by the Dumbledore.

"And the final champion for the Triwizard Tournament is… Cedric Diggory!"

A _roar_ boomed, bouncing off the walls, Hufflepuff house stood up jumping and _screaming_ in excitement. The announced boy stood up and had a bounce to his step. After the handshake and his disappearance to the next room, Dumbledore silenced the Great Hall.

"We now have our champions. As a re-"

Red sparks flicked and flurried around the goblet, drawing all eyes to the distraction.

England glanced to France who had the look of complete shock. France looked back at England. He swung his head to look at the Nordic nations who were watching in confusion. Norway's face looked to his, looking just as surprised as them. He knew they were thinking the same thing.

_What the hell is going?_

In their many Triwizard experiences this has _never_ happened before and England in complete honesty, was terrified.

England stood up and leaned over the table watching as the Goblet spat out another charred paper.

Green eyes squinted, trying to, if they could, see through the paper to see what was _on_ the paper.

Dumbledore had grabbed the paper so fast his hand was a blur and he quickly unfolded it.

Blue eyes scanned the paper then looked up.

"Harry Potter."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So I'm back at school and if I get distracted enough I'll probably be working more on this than studies lol.

Bute yes number 21! I have reading this weekend to do but I'm hoping to have the next one up soon.

Poor harry _and_ england aha lmfao what now nerds

And sorry about the mess up! i saved it as Chapter 21 instead of the usual Professor England 21 so it got mixed up but now it's fixed! Thanks for reading!


	22. Chapter 22

His breath hitched in his throat.

Palms clammy, face paled.

He rolled his eyes to him, to Harry Potter.

From what he could tell, Harry was trying to talk with Ronald and Hermione quietly but Harry looked more than _surprised_.

"Harry Potter! Hurry!"

Harry snapped his towards the Headmaster and for half a second, shared a gaze with England. His eyes were almost blank, void of emotion.

Harry shuffled out of his seat and walked.

England clenched his hands.

_No_.

Harry's shaking legs walked up the steps, facing Dumbledore, not looking back at the silent room that had all eyes on him.

England followed the boy who rounded the staff table and disappeared to the next room.

_Three are too many._

France at some point had made his way to the Brit's spot and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"What the _hell_ just happened England?" came his deep, harsh whisper.

He had no idea.

As quick as firecrackers, all the Headmasters and McGongall and Snape and the creators of the Games sped to the almost closed doorway.

"Let's go find out," England replied, shrugging the hand off and following the group.

_Harry is not going to die in these stupid games._

The talking was pretty loud when France and England entered, both out of breath and weak.

The adults stood around Harry and the other champions, the fireplace roaring and dancing about.

"-It was no one's fault but Mr. Potter himself Karkaroff. Ever since he's arrived at Hogwart's-"

"Thank you Severus, that's enough."

England took quiet steps, taking his place next to Dumbledore. Harry locked eyes with him but looked back to the Headmaster when he spoke.

"Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No."

"Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?"

"No," he spoke harshly.

"But he is lying of course!" Madame Maxime cried out.

"My lady," France interjected, gracefully raising her opal covered hand and brushed his lips against it, "please do not yell. I believe the boy is telling the truth."

Madam looked incredulously to the man, as did Karkaroff.

England's ears perked up as he heard a pair of footsteps enter the room.

"Lukas, Berwald, what are you doing here?!" Karkaroff spat out.

Norway huffed silently and gently pushed past the steaming man, stopping before Harry, who was only a mere 2 inches taller than the nation. Lifting a gloved hand, he grabbed Harry's chin and pulled him close, peering deeply into his emerald eyes.

Harry was all the more confused, shocked and annoyed.

"Hm," was the nation's sound, releasing Harry and taking steps back to stand next to Sweden and Karkaroff.

"I believe Harry as well," Norway spoke. Berwald gave a short curt nod in agreement.

The Nordic headmaster's mouth hung in disbelief. "You _what?_"

England decided to speak as well, "And so do I," standing next to Harry and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "and might I suggest you not make wild accusations about this? You're not the only one startled and confused by all this."

Harry looked up at the man, brows shot nearly straight up to his hairline.

"_You_," Karkaroff shook a pointed finger, "are but a _muggle. _You shouldn't even _be here_."

England scoffed silently, "You are not the first to complain about me since I've come here so do try better next time if you are trying to make me feel bad. It's really quite amusing watching you try and fail wholeheartedly."

Karkaroff sputtered then spun to Crouch and Bagman, "I want another round, I want resubmit more of my students into the Tournament."

"We cannot, we must follow the rules," Barty said.

"Rules? What rules when a _fourth champion_ has been chosen? Set up the Goblet again so our schools can have two champions as well!"

England tried to hold back the laugh but it couldn't so he quickly covered it up as a cough. Karkaroff's steely gaze looked at the nation then back to the judges.

It truly was bemusing to England that this man was trying to pass off as somebody terrifying.

Bagman spoke, "Headmaster the Goblet is already extinguished and it won't burn again until the next games-"

"In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing in! I have half the mind to leave now!"

"Pathetic threats wouldn't you say Karkaroff?" came a deep voice from the corner.

_Thud pat thud pat_ was heard until Alastor Moody was in full view, all eyes now fixed on him.

England did not like him.

Leaning down slowly, England whispered into Harry's ear, "Harry do you have any idea of who put your name in the cup?"

Harry jerked slightly but looked at him with only his eyes. "No."

"Hm."

"-and if anyone should be complaining it should be Potter but funny thing is, he isn't."

The once again, all eyes were on Harry. Harry shifted at the attention. England squeezed his shoulder.

"But I think we should be asking, how was his name put in the Goblet?" Sweden spoke, his accent light after years of reciting English but never fully vanishing.

"I think," Moody's gruff voice echoed, "someone put Harry's name down and used a Confundus Charm on the Goblet to confuse it and forget there are only 3 schools for the Tournament."

"I see," Sweden replied. And that _does_ make sense seeing as how the nations were by far the most confused because it has never happened before.

"And why was his name put in there?" England asked, making sure to speak loudly for all to hear.

Moody grunted, the whirring of his eye the only other audible noise besides the crackling of the fireplace, "Maybe someone's hoping he'll die in these games."

Harry stiffened and England's jaw clenched.

_Don't tell me it's-_

"Preposterous! Why should we believe anything _you_ have to say Moody because I recently heard you destroyed your birthday present under the assumption it was a basilisk egg but it turned out to be a carriage clock. To think we'd take anything you say seriously..."

Moody growled and opened his mouth to retort until Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping the ex-Aurora.

"We do not know how this came to be but it seems that we have no choice but to accept it. Now tell us Barty, instructions for the first task?"

Barty had been really quiet this whole time and to hear him speak almost felt refreshing, if it weren't for the fact they were sending off students to their deaths.

"Right, the first test we won't tell you the details about since it is to test your daring. Courage is only real when it is unknown. The task will take place on the 24th of November."

After his short speech, words were exchanged before collectively deciding it was time to turn in for the night. With that, the headmaster's of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang escorted their champions out (with the nation's following, only giving curious glances towards each other), Snape and McGonagall following Crouch and Bagman.

Dumbledore faced the nation and the two remaining champions, Harry and Cedric Diggory.

"I think it's about time we turn in for the night. Harry, Cedric," Dumbledore raised his arm towards the door and the two boys gave in to his order, Harry looking back at England. England gave a weak smile that left when he was no longer in the room.

"Arthur…"

England pinched the bridge of his nose, all to tired and frustrated and _angry_ about this dilemma.

"We'll find out who put his name in the Goblet I assure you of that. But for now, sleep is what you need."

England gave a shaky sigh and nodded, slowly following the bearded fellow out the adjacent room and out the Great Hall. With goodnight's given, they parted ways and towards their own abodes.

But…

Before England went to his room, he made a right, left up a few of the stairs and rounding another corner, he found a skinny young boy mindlessly walking.

"Harry."

Almost as if being jolted out of his blank state of mind, Harry turned to him, his eyes swimming with all sorts of questions. England moved so he was standing right before him, looking down at the boy.

"Mr Kirkland."

His heart twisted hearing the hurt laced in just the name alone.

Rubbing a hand through his ruffled hair, England leaned down slightly so he was at eye-level with him.

"Look Harry," England began, hoping desperately Harry wouldn't tune him out, "I know you're confused about this and about me more than anything but please hear me out when is say this."

Taking in a shaky breath, he put his hand on Harry's head.

"These games are nothing but barbaric ideas created by crazed old men who thought nothing but of winning and killing. These games are dangerous, not only physically but emotionally too. I noticed the way your friend Ronald was looking at you before and also the whole school. But remember this, you are a strong boy. I know you are. Just try not to run away ok?"

England smiled and ruffled Harry's head who in return leaned back.

"Sir, I'm not going to run form these games."

"I didn't mean from the games. Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but stopped, deciding against it.

England coughed harshly, for a solid 10 seconds. Oh _God_ what now?

"Mr. Kirkland are you-"

England laughed weakly and waved his hand then rubbing his head.

"It's fine it's fine. Never skip out on breakfast ok Harry? You'll end up like me," he chuckled dryly. "Hurry on to your room it's best you get some sleep."

Harry was more than willing to go back so he could talk with his friends but he had the chance right now to talk with him, with the man. England ruffled Harry's head one final time before turning on his heel and walking away.

"Good night Harry Potter."

And the man was swallowed up by the darkness.

Harry stood there for another minute, his heart beating loudly in his chest.

He felt it again.

His warm hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Uh oh england isnt doing too well oh geez whatever should I do? give him a good day a nice message froma merica? or how about more angst

more angst i think ha.

Ok thank you for the reviews and for reading! Have a lovely night!


	23. Chapter 23

What utter _bullshit_ the Daily prophet was.

Oh England was more than _glad_, more than _happy _- and every other joyous emotion he couldn't think of right now - that he cut off ties with the magic world.

Rita Skeeter and her nonsensical crap she wrote about the champions in the Prophet. Actually, it wasn't even about the champions, about four pages dedicated to Harry's 'tragic life' and 'how very proud his parents must be' and so much other bullshit that as soon as that paper landed in his lap and he saw the headlines, he blew it up.

Like literally, blew it up.

In flames.

So if you're wondering why there's a burnt charred hole edges of a remaining rug in his room, well now you know.

England shuddered in annoyance.

Oh just _thinking_ about it almost makes him want to jump off the Astronomy tower.

The day those papers arrived, the _frog_ reminded him "These are your people England!"

Thank God Sweden was there to keep him from slugging France.

But now, as he trudged along the Dark Forest Saturday evening, looking for a certain place, he just wished so desperately that Sweden let him punch France. Just a small one, nothing to- well all right that was a blatant lie.

A good punch, one that carried the strength of 3 angry bulls would've been good enough for him.

A wry smiled coiled England's face as he thought about how _good_ it'd have been if it happened.

"Ah Engl-"

England hushed the brunette who came trotting up to him.

The man's smile fell but he seemed to remember something and nodded his head.

"Right I almost forgot, _Arthur_."

England rolled his eyes and started walking with Romania.

"Good of you to remember."

Romania smiled cheekily.

"Well it's hard trying to remember human names and especially harder remembering things with all the work I have for the Tournament!"

England huffed and shook his head.

"Only one task you're doing. Are the others here yet?"

The two maneuvered their way between trees and stumps and from a distance away; they could hear yells from men and a bright orange glow that flashed every now and then.

Romania nodded, "They have!" Once again the smile fell from his pale features.

England raised a brow. They were nearing the loud noises now and it should make Romania excited more than ever to be by it again but something obviously wasn't right.

"Wh-"

"Oh Arthur! Long time no see!"

Romania's demeanor changed _drastically_. And upon seeing the owner of the voice, she too looked immensely irritated and England wished he weren't near these two.

"Elizabeta, I didn't expect to see you here!" England called excitedly, hoping to try and ease the tension.

Elizabeta, Hungary, was looking stunning as always. Her long brown hair was swept up into a bun with a pink flower holding it up and her green eyes that – before seeing Romania – were shining brightly.

By now, Romania and England had reached the gathering, standing with Norway and Sweden (both of whom dressed warmly since it was near the end of November) and France (who now knew better since arriving to dress warmly too).

Before them stood one thing that these nations have encountered numerous times in their lives that were both stunning and terrifying.

Dragons.

Magnificent creatures.

"Why are _you_ here _Hungary?_" Romania asked through gritted teeth. They really don't like each other; if it wasn't obvious by the way they were standing at the far edges of the group.

"In case you've forgotten _Romania_," she said just as distastefully, "the Hungarian Horntail that I found is the one you're using for these stupid games," looking with dsidain at the 3 creators of the games, "and I had to see how my baby was doing."

Romania smirked, "Well she's doing very well since she's living with _me_ now."

France waved his hand in front of his face from the amount of heat the fires were putting off and Norway side glanced at Hungary as a notion to not start any fights. She noticed his command and crossed her arms exasperatedly.

"Never mind that now, Romania," Sweden's deep voice sounded, "tell us what dragons you decided to bring this year."

Romania's red eyes flashed with excitement. "First up is, as we were just discussing, is this Hungarian Horntail! She has a nasty temper just like Hungary!"

"Hey!"

Romania smiled again.

England had to lean his head back to even _look_ at the dragon's head, even though they were more than 40 feet away! Horntails were known for their nasty tempers and England felt sorry for the poor fellow that has to go up against this particular one. The black scales that only reflected a fraction of the small light in the area and it's lizard like tail that thrashed about wildly could give even the most trained of dragon breeders a fright.

"Next is our Swedish Short-Snout who, thanks to Mr. Sweden, is now part of my children!"

Sweden made a small cough at the recognition. England remembered long ago the trouble these dragons gave to any invaders who thought trying to sneak in from the Northern Mountains would give them the advantage, but were sorely mistaken. Great agility in the air and fire that can burn timber and bone to ashes in mere seconds, these were fearsome creatures. Watching this particular Swedish Short-Snout veer back on its hind legs and sneer at the seven people surrounding its cage was amazing to watch since they are rare to see. Beautiful silver-blue scales that glinted brightly in the firelight and glowed on the nations.

"And over here," Romania stepped a few paces left, "is our Welsh Green. Thankfully, since it's a Welsh Green, we barely have any trouble with her."

France leaned over to England, "Oi, isn't a young Common Welsh what caused the Great Fire of London?"

England growled lowly, "I've told you before I _don't know_. If I _did_ know then I would have done something about it _France_."

France waved his finger like a parent would do to a child.

_Insufferable prick is what he is_.

At a height of over 18 ft, this Common Welsh was, more or less, calmer than the other dragons since they were known to not bother humans, preferring their sheep for their food. Despite that Illfracombe Incident in 1932, watch out for Dodgy Dirk kids, England still revered them as the gentlest of dragons. They shoot their fire out in jets and this beautiful green one decided not to do that, but still kept it's guard up from those pointed wands.

"And finally, last but not least, is the Chinese Firebolt. China was against giving me this one since he was raising her in secret but we got her anyways," Romania motioned to the final dragon.

This scarlet dragon was obviously angry with her present situation and was spitting out mushroom shaped fire from both the mouth and snout at the wizards. They may be more aggressive (but nothing like the Horntail over there who was thrashing about) they are more tolerable of their own kind and will actually willingly share their territory with others. But remembering all the stories China told of his people getting snatched and eaten by these dragons, England was more than happy dealing with the occasional missing sheep.

Wait wait, England shouldn't have to tell you all this. You're obviously someone who hasn't been doing his or her readings. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, found at any magical bookstore near you. Though the shop owners are a bit stingy so be ready to haggle with them.

"Oh Charlie! Could you come over here?"

Red hair swept in motion when called then came trotting over to the group. That red hair could only mean one thing-

"Charlie Weasley. Studying dragons after graduating Hogwarts and one of the best I've seen in a long time."

The aforementioned man smiled brightly looking over the group but once spotted England, he had a curious look then it seemed that something had clicked.

"I know you, you were at the Quidditch World Cup. Arthur Kirkland was it?"

England returned his addicting smile, "I was and I am. I didn't know there was another Weasley."

Charlie laughed, "Seven of us and I'm the second oldest. Oh, Hagrid's here. If you may excuse me Mister-"

Romania patted his shoulder, "Yes you're excused Charlie."

Charlie waved to the group then trotted towards the other side of the gathering. Looking over, England noticed the half giant was with the Beauxbatons Headmaster. France groaned in annoyance.

"What is she doing here?!"

"From the looks of it, I think it's a date," said Hungary, slyly smiling at the couple.

Hagrid had a huge flower in his pocket chest and what looked like an attempt at combed hair. Maxime wore a shimmering shawl that was stunning in the firelight.

"I think Karkaroff will be doing the same thing," Sweden spoke.

"He will," Norway agreed, pulling his scarf down to take in a deep breath. "He'd do anything so that Viktor Krum would win."

France rubbed his head in agitation, "Always cheating! Why am I not surprised that it happens this year too?!"

Hungary laughed loudly and patted France's shoulder, "But if they all cheat then it's an even playing ground right? Don't worry don't worry I think those other two kids will find out too."

Romania's smiled wavered briefly, "Speaking of the other two, _why_ is there a fourth champion? Do you realize the amount of paperwork I had to do because an unannounced fourth contestant came into play? Not that I don't mind seeing my dragons fight against these weak humans."

England sighed, "I don't know why there's a fourth champion either. Somebody put a strong Confundus Charm on the Goblet. A _really_ strong one when Francis and I checked it after."

"And it's none other than that same kid, Harry Potter right?" Hungary asked.

England rubbed his temples and nodded.

"Damn the amount of crap the kid's gone through and now this? Good job Francis," she punched him hard on the shoulder. Norway's corner lip twitched and England howled with laughter.

"I've been wanting to punch him for so long but this counts too!"

France glared at England and held his shoulder with great care, swinging his head to Hungary.

"Oi I'm not the only one who cre-"

Hungary waved her hand, "Look, what's done is done. And Arthur, I've already heard from those two," she nodded her head at Norway and Sweden, "what you four are doing. So just watch over the kid ok? He's our only hope."

England's stomach flipped upside down at the comment. Hungary stepped up to England and hugged him tightly.

"And take care of yourself, I don't want you showing up to another meeting coughing up blood."

England returned the hug and softly chuckled. He didn't want that to happen either.

She pulled back and smiled brightly at him.

"I'll be here for the first Task so let's sit together. And now I have to get my beauty sleep because look how late it is."

Oh right, staying up past midnight on a Saturday night (Sunday morning whatever you want to call it) wasn't the brightest of ideas, especially when it was sneaking off to see _dragons_. With the first Task this Tuesday, he needed to be well kempt and be prepared if anything got out of hand.

"What beauty sleep? Either way you look like a trash can," Romania spoke snidely.

"A better trash can that you at least."

Sweden stepped between the two glowering nations. "Enough."

A wizard had called out (Oh bless his soul) to Romania for help so with parting goodbyes to the nations, besides Hungary, Romania cheerfully walked away.

England pinched the bridge of his nose. Tonight was more than enough for him.

France looked at England, "I think you should go sleep Arthur."

England waved his hand tiredly, "Yes yes. Goodnight frog."

France chuckled and patted his shoulder, stalking over to the Beauxbatons Headmaster and her date. England arced around (saying his goodnights to Norway and Sweden) and started his long (okay not long but it is long when you're a tired man) trek through the forest and back to the school. But…

… He had this itching feeling that he was being watched. Being sure he was far enough away he spun on his heel to catch the fellow.

But no one was there.

England blinked once, then twice before running a hand through his blonde hair and growling lowly.

"Bloody Hell, this is what I get for running on 4 hours of sleep every day. I can't have a repeat of what happened with Alfred." Because collapsing while cooking while taking care of a young nation was upsetting enough, who knows what could have happened to America when he was unconscious? But the horrifying part of it was waking up to find France reading to America a book. An adult book.

With pictures.

Spinning around again, and hopefully his final time for the night, England carried on, desiring his warm bed more than anything right now.

As for Harry, he was just _really_ confused. He had heard the entire conversation, since he didn't want to really be near Hagrid and Madame Maxime while they were on their date. Oh how grateful he was for the Invisibility Cloak.

But his mind was swirling in thoughts and confusion. Giving each people nicknames, yea it happens all the time, but to actually refer to someone like it was their _name_, as if that person had always been called that. And to be calling each other by the names of _countries?_

This is the part where Harry liked to hear Ron's comments after eavesdropping, but since the two weren't talking to each other, Harry shook his mind of that thought.

_Coughing up blood? At a meeting?_ Harry couldn't think of any logical reason why someone would be coughing up blood unless it were something life threatening, but the way that woman spoke, Elizabeta, she spoke as if it were to happen _again_. And like it's happened even before the time she was referring too.

And why, _why_ were they talking as if Arthur had to _protect_ him. He wasn't his caretaker or anything, and he knew if anything got out of hand Dumbledore would do something. Though, he didn't mind so much the thought of being protected by him.

Or have Arthur as his caretaker.

Looking at his wristwatch once more, Harry began sprinting towards the castle, hoping not to be late for his meeting with Sirius.

The last thought he had about the whole ordeal was that he wished he could turn back time, to the moment he met Arthur Kirkland

**Author's Note:**

Weird I couldn't find the line thingy majig for my author's note but w/e. Anyways I wanted to upload this before I forgot and thank you for the reviews! I'll fix this later! And it's only been one but for the person who reviewed and said 'UPDATE! I DEMAND IT' please don't do that. I understand you want more but you could have put it in nicer words and I hope you don't say that to other authors.

Thank you for reading and have a lovely evening!


	24. Chapter 24

"Wait Harry you lost me at the name calling."

Harry figured she would. Walking around the lake (this probably being their fourth time now) and catching Hermione up on everything that happened Saturday evening felt nice. He was going to include Arthur and his friends calling each other by those weird country nicknames but now decided it wasn't as important.

"It doesn't matter."

"But I think what matters Harry is when you told me they were planning something. Lukas and Berwald from Durmstrang, Francis from Beauxbatons and Arthur right?"

Harry nodded his head. Harry was confused himself but when he looked into his best friend's eyes, he could see that she was trying to find anything resourceful in that brilliant mind of hers. Hopefully she doesn't hurt herself thinking this hard.

"Those four are planning something but, it doesn't seem like they're against you but with you."

"The only ones at this school it seems."

Hermione threw her hands in disbelief, "They wouldn't be if you and Ron made up!"

"I won't until he does."

She shook her head furiously. _Boys_.

"Anyways, there's another thing you said that's important too. You heard Arthur say that he and Francis checked the Goblet after to see how strong the Confundus Charm was?"

"Yeah so?"

"And no muggle can enter Hogwarts unless granted access?"

Hermione looked at him, as if she were trying to point out something so obvious that Harry missed it. And when he figured it out, he felt really stupid.

"If he checked the cup, the only way being with magic, then that means he _is_ a wizard. And if you said that he fixed your glasses when you were a kid that is more proof he is one."

"Yea I figured it out thanks."

"And so if he is a wizard: why hide it? If he's protecting you but he's a wizard, why does he have to pass off as a Muggle Inquisitor?"

Harry shrugged and stepped over the fallen branch for a fourth time. "Maybe he has to hide it I don't know."

Hermione bummed quietly to herself and kicked some wet dirt with the heel of he boot. Harry looked out over the calm lake, only seeing a small splash from a retreating tentacle that disturbed the otherwise peaceful lake. Turning his head to the bushy haired witch, it seemed like she was even deeper in thought.

"What is Hermione?"

"There's a lot to think about with what you told me, Harry."

He agreed with her on that but it looked like she wanted to say something but she wasn't telling. Well, she'll tell him when she's ready.

"Have you told Sirius?"

Harry nodded his head. "He told me to just keep my distance, especially round those two blokes from Durmstrang since they could be working with Karkaroff."

Hermione pulled her coat closer around her body, "They might be ex-Death Eaters as well. Just try to stay away from them Harry."

"I'm trying to stay away form everyone so this won't be hard."

Hermione sighed and grabbed his arm.

"Let's go the library and see what spells you can learn to help you in the First Task."

And lo and behold, they did just that but when they entered the library not a single person was there, except for the very person Harry should be staying away from: Lukas Bondevik.

Hermione nearly pushed Harry over trying to hide behind the row of books.

"Why now?!" She whispered harshly, looking through the shelves of books at the young man who was sitting on a cushioned chair, looking keenly at something on the table before him. Harry watched and heard his soft voice.

"Knight to E5."

The white knight chess piece moved four up then two left, chopping a bishop in half.

"Good move Lukas! You truly are a brilliant chess player," the ghostly, distant voice of Sir Nicholas floated through the air.

Lukas nodded, "As are you Sir Nicholas. And you two can stop hiding behind the book shelf."

Hermione's hand gripped his arm tightly but he placed his hand over hers. The two stepped into view, Lukas not turning his head to them.

"Oh hello Harry! Come to do some studying?"

"Yes."

Sir Nicholas' literal see-through smile grew, "For the First Task I assume. I've heard rumors it's going to be tricky."

Harry and Hermione stood beside the live man and non-alive man. Lukas leaned back into the cushion and Sir Nicholas surveyed the new playing field. Many seconds passed with Sir Nicholas' face pinched in concentration, trying to brainstorm a counterattack.

"I've lost! 4th time and I lose again! Well done Lukas."

Lukas' strange violet eyes remained fixated on the Wizard Chess board, looking very content with his win. Sir Nicholas sighed heartily but floated out of the chair.

"Even to this day I could neve-"

"Didn't you say you had some matters to attend to Sir Nicholas?"

Harry eyed the ghost who was interrupted but the noble ghost seemed flabbergasted at his, mistake?

"O-Oh right you are Lukas. Thank you for reminding me. Harry, Hermione," Sir Nicholas bowed, light blue and grey shimmering through him as he made his way to the library exit.

Silence now encompassed the remaining 3 people, Harry and Hermione standing awkwardly near Lukas who merely tucked a stray hair behind his ear. The short man leaned his head back and carefully examined the students.

"Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to formally meet you."

"Er- you too."

Lukas' violet eyes rolled to Hermione and Harry could feel her stop breathing.

"M-My name's Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. It's nice to meet you Mr. Bondevik."

Lukas lowered his head in acknowledgment to Hermione.

Harry realized that now was his chance to ask, even if Hermione didn't want him to be talking with Lukas.

"Excuse me sir, may I ask how you and Ar- Mr. Kirkland- met?"

Lukas' eyes blinked once slowly before he sighed softly, "A long time ago in a different country."

Hermione half-glanced at Harry. Ok maybe another question.

"What I really wanted to ask though is what is Mr. Kirkland like?"

The silent man's eyes gazed out the window and focused on what seemed to be nothing.

"Arthur is a unique man who's doing his best."

Ok now they _really_ weren't going to get anything out of him and it was _really_ irritating Harry the short, vague answers they were getting from this government worker.

"You were in the Dark Forest last night weren't you Harry Potter."

Not even a question but a statement and Harry was shocked.

_How_ did he know that? He was using his Invisibility Cloak and the only other person Harry knew that could detect him was Mad-Eye.

"You were making a ruckus behind us, I'd suggest next time using the Quietus Charm."

Hermione pinched his arm hard and he discreetly smacked her hand away.

"Er- right. Thank you for the tip sir."

"Hermione Granger," Lukas spoke, "I think the best books for dragons is two rows over that way." He pointed a slim, gloved finger.

Hermione looked at the man then to her best friend.

"I'll catch up with you in a moment Hermione."

Her eyes flashed with worry but she complied and vanished to where Lukas had suggested.

"Sir I-"

"I know what you want to ask Harry, but now isn't a good time and I shouldn't be the one to tell you."

Harry clenched his fist in his pocket. He was really getting nowhere with this man and it annoyed him _so_ much.

Lukas rose from his seat, now at eye-level (almost) with Harry since he was at least two inches shorter than Harry.

"And what you heard last night was true. We're here for you Harry Potter. And if I were you, I'd start putting more faith into Arthur."

"Why? So he can leave again and not show up? Why should I?"

"Because he came back."

Harry's heart twisted hearing that. He was right, and he knew it, but being his stubborn self and dealing with the whole Tournament, he didn't want to give in.

"Who are you and why are you and Arthur and your friends so concerned about me?"

"This affects everyone Harry."

"I know that but you and your friends act like it hurts you guys more than anyone else."

"It does."

Harry felt like somebody had decided to pull this wild joke on him. First his name being pulled out of the Goblet, the crap being written in the Daily Prophet, losing his best friend and now this.

_Nothing_ he was saying made any sense. Nothing _anybody_ was saying made sense.

"What does that mean?"

"It's as I say Harry, it affects us more than others. Especially Arthur."

The man stepped closer to Harry who was too confused to even move or think.

"I can't say anything else. But trust Arthur."

He pulled away and slid past Harry. "Until next time Harry Potter."

"Harry, what happened what did he say? Are you all right?" Hermione's flurried questions bombarded him instantly when Lukas left.

"I'm fine."

Hermione raised her brow, "But what did he _say_?"

"He, he told me to trust Arthur."

Hermione wasn't expecting that answer and she shut her mouth then opened it again, "Trust him? Harry what el-"

"Nothing Hermione. I just want to focus on finding a good spell for the First Task if you don't mind."

Hermione sighed but led the way to the nearest table with a pile of books in her arms. The two sat down simultaneously and dug into the pile of books that needed to be read. A long day was ahead of them.

Sunday and Monday dragged by slow but Tuesday had arrived and Harry was jittery with nerves while he stood in the tent with the other champions. Besides the champions, Ludo Bagman and Arthur Kirkland were with them too.

Ludo looked excited and Arthur's expression was distant and blank. Harry remembered Lukas telling him to trust Arthur but seeing his face now, he didn't know if he should.

Thanks to some advice from Mad-Eye, Harry taught himself (with the help of Hermione of course) the spell best suited for him during the First Task. He just hoped he practiced it enough and that it would actually _work_ when he needed it.

Ludo Bagman gave a short explanation on what they needed to do for the first task: get the egg. Simple, but everyone knew what the obstacle that had to be passed first.

"Now you've chosen your dragon," chosen was the last word Harry would've thought of, "and number. Cedric you're first, the whistle is your signal to go."

Cedric nodded but continued his pacing and Ludo Bagman left the tent.

Arthur cleared his throat and grabbed the attention of the champions, "I'd like to wish you all the best of luck as well and to be safe."

_BRRRRRRRRRRRHHH_

Cedric stopped his pacing and headed to the front of the tent. Arthur reached him and squeezed his shoulder.

"You'll be okay. Good luck."

Cedric nodded and stepped out. The crowd cheered wildly.

Minutes passed and Cedric soon finished and won the First Task.

Next up-

"Miss Delacour if you please!" Ludo's voice echoed through the stadium.

She nearly tripped over an invisible rock walking to the front. Harry watched as Arthur patted her shoulder and spoke, "Vous faites de l'excellent. Rester en sécurité, Miss Delacour." Whatever he said to her made her feel so much better as she straightened her back, held her head high and walked out.

The crowd boomed with cheers at the next champion and the announcements were similar to Cedric's.

"Ooo very good… Narrowly missed that… Oh watch out!"

After ten minutes applause sounded indicating the Fleur finished her Task but he had no idea if it was a successful one.

_BRRRRRRRRHHHHH_

Viktor Krum strutted to the entrance, not looking very happy. Arthur did the same with Viktor as well and spoke what Harry could only guess to be words of encouragement in the boy's native tongue that certainly gave the professional Quidditch player a new, glowing aura. He walked out determined.

Now Harry was alone with Arthur Kirkland and he felt so in tune with the world at this very moment. He could hear the cheers, the roars from both dragon and crowd and his own heart beating wildly in his chest that he didn't even notice Arthur had called his name more than once.

"-Harry?"

Harry blinked twice and looked at Arthur who stood before him inches taller than he, by a bit. Arthur's spectacular green eyes glinted with worry, and regret.

"Sir."

"Nerves getting to you?"

Harry couldn't deny it, not now anyways when his legs felt like sludge.

"Yeah."

Arthur chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair.

"You're a quick kid Harry, just as you were as a kid. You'll finish this in no time."

Hearing Arthur mention that made Harry less nervous and more nostalgic and happy at the fact that he remembered that.

"Mr. Kirkland, why did you come to Hogwarts?"

He wanted to know, he _needed_ to know.

Arthur pulled his hand back and rubbed his forehead, "Lukas told me you two talked Sunday."

Harry nodded, not really knowing how to reply.

"I'm here for you Harry and I wish I could tell you more but I could get in trouble."

There it was again, another short vague answer.

"But do believe me when I say I'm with you and trying to help. All I can really do is stand by and watch but seeing you with your friends, I sometimes wonder if you even need my help at all." Arthur gave an empty smile.

"Help with what? Fighting against Voldemort? I've seen you do magic and I know you're lying telling everyone you're not a wizard so why should I trust you?"

It was subtle but Harry saw Arthur's body twitch at the harsh comment. Arthur's green eyes turned blank and he smiled that empty smile again.

"Really nobody should trust me because they end up getting hurt."

_BRRRRRRRRRRRRHHH_

Harry jumped at the interruption and looked at the flap the back at Arthur who was avoiding his desperate eyes. Arthur brushed past Harry but ruffled his hair like always.

"Good luck Harry."

**Author's Note:**

wtf they took away the line thing (unless thats just my computer) bUT

Here's another chapter! i wonder to myself if I should change the title of this since he's not really a professor and in my head, he won't be for a long while so idk. we'll see but thank you for the lovely reviews and everything!

I've been on a Samurai Champloo fanfic binge myself lately (finished it again and i just need more) so if you're wondering "why the fuck hasn't this author updated?" it's cause i'm either reading about Champloo or FMA crossovers (dont even get me_ started_ on that). or hw.

I hope you have a lovely evening good night!


	25. Chapter 25

He was _brilliant_.

"ANOTHER NARROW ESCAPE WELL DONE!"

England leaned forward, entranced by the boy's zooming speeds dodging the Hornback. But-

"Right In the shoulder! Almost got knocked off that time!"

"Arthur," Hungary gripped his sleeve, "ease up, you're really tense."

England blinked and mulled over her words. She was right, he nearly stopped breathing and every fiber and muscle of his being was _way_ beyond tense. England took in a deep breath and leaned back, patting the brunette's hand.

"Thank you Elizabeta."

England was impressed by Harry's flying skills. He rivaled even the best professional Quidditch players in the world and England should know since he's been around when it was invented!

With every close hit and turn, England's breath lodged in his throat but every time, Harry escaped and England would sink down in contempt.

He could tell Hungary was worried for his safety too but she was more elated with the sight of her beautiful dragon. Romania, to England's left, held an everlasting smile at the sight of his trained dragon. It was a creepy smile.

France and the two Nordics sat in the row in front of them and they too tensed up at every tail flick and flame bursting.

During Miss. Delacour's run, France nearly jumped out of his seat to protest but Sweden's giant hand pushed him back down. France had to watch in distress at Fleur's running and hiding before she finally captured her egg. He nearly shouted in agony when her skirt caught fire.

Cedric did very well in his Task and was able to grab the egg with more ease and less injuries. England was very proud of him, and so was Hogwarts because every student _screamed_ after he snatched it up.

Viktor Krum had some trouble, after trying to use a spell on the dragon that didn't go so smoothly, but after he jumped and grabbed his egg, Karkaroff bellowed and gloated about his student. England had noticed Lukas crossed and held his arms in a snake like grip that he was sure blood was cut off. And Sweden, well, he couldn't tell to much but he was sure that Sweden didn't even _breath_ during Krum's entire run.

England could tell the headmasters were tense too, though Karkaroff was a different story, as he could see them in the row ahead of France and the Nordics.

England gave fair marks to the previous champions, 9 for Miss Delalcour and 10 for Mr. Diggory for his very nice Transfiguration on that rock to turn into a Labrador.

Mr. Krum, he received an 8 for his Task since the spell that shot the Chinese Firebolt in the eye resulted in the dragon smashing about and squashing her own eggs, since the eggs had to be scratch free and not damaged in any way. The attempt at a threatening glare Karkaroff gave England for his low score was amusing.

England watched, as it seemed like Harry had thought up a plan and tilted his broom up and zipped towards the blue sky. The dragon had had enough of what she deemed to be an annoying pest and chased Harry but before she could even reach his tail end, Harry made a sharp U-turn and sped towards the gathering of eggs before the mother even had time to realize.

"HE'S DONE IT! HARRY POTTER GOT THE GOLDEN EGG!"

Just as they did with Cedric, Hogwart students jumped and stomped their feet, shaking the stadium with their shoes and screams.

England dropped his face into his hands and hunched over, breathing deeply in and out.

_You were magnificent Harry_.

"THAT'S MY DRAGON RIGHT THERE!" Hungary pointed.

"No that is not _Elizabeta_."

"Oi do you want to take this outside Rom-"

"That's enough you two," Sweden's gruff voice interjected.

England couldn't really hear their exchanging words over the crowds but England didn't care right now.

_Harry's ok. They all are._

A warm hand patted his back and England recognized it. He's felt it so many times before that he didn't need to second-guess it.

"Just breath Arthur."

England nodded at France's command.

Tears threatened to spill and England breathed and tried to regain his composure. He hated crying in front of others and he hated crying. France is the only one who's seen him cry (which he despises _greatly_). But at this very moment, he was more than glad that France blocked his body from view.

He heard the _swoosh_ of a broom overtop their heads. England ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair and stood up, joining the crowd in their clapping.

England heard France's chuckle but decidedly ignored it, only focusing on Harry who was floating down to the teachers, his shoulder bloodied but he was looking very relieved than he had been in the past weeks.

"Wonderful show wasn't it!" Ludo Bagman cheered, still ecstatic about the whole fiasco.

Mr. Crouch craned his neck to look at England, "First time seeing dragons can give anyone a scare Arthur, especially a muggle."

England nodded and murmured a yes, not paying attention to the compliments and complaints (only coming from the Durmstrang Headmaster).

Harry walked back out of the tent with - it looked to be Ronald Weasley (finally made up?) – and they peered up at the raised seats of the judges.

It was time for the scoring.

The first silver ribbon sputtered out of Madam Maxime's wand, 8.

Then came the next, 9 from Mr. Crouch, 9 from Albus, 10 (Ludo was more excited than the rest), 9 from both Sweden and Norway, 8 from France (muttering something about the style), and then-

"- a 4? Oi who's student shot the damn dragon and made her squash her eggs huh?!"

"Elizabeta."

Hungary shook her head in disbelief and sat down.

"Arthur," France peered at him, "you're score for Harry?"

England blinked but shook his head, "You already know my score Francis."

France smirked and pointed his ivory wand in the air, a 10.

At the sight of the final score, the crowds only screamed louder and pounded harder. Good God he never realized how much _crazier_ the kids were getting these days. Well who wouldn't be when their Hogwart's champion was now tied for first with a professional Quidditch player?

England resumed his clapping and smiled fondly at the boy who stared in disbelief at the final score. Harry locked eyes with England for a split-second and England could tell that Harry was happy.

And after that day, England woke up with a horrible headache.

The next day, the headache was still there.

And it continued to be there, even up to the Yule Ball.

Harry realized, after reconciling with his best friend what Mr. Kirkland meant by not running away.

Harry laughed heartily as he watched Ron scarf down his breakfast the next day.

Having him by his side again, he really couldn't ask for anything else at this moment.

**Author's Note:**

I miss writing angst for England and harry and brotherly love and all that crap but hw sucks and so does college.

I'll reply to your reviews later but thank you so much for them and for reading! Have a lovely night!


	26. Chapter 26

"Hermione,"

"Hm?"

"Haven't you noticed something off about Mr. Kirkland?"

Hermione looked from the Daily Prophet to Harry with her eyes then turned her neck to the head table. Ron joined in on the staring, chewing heartily on his syrup-slathered pancake.

11 days since the First Task and Harry's life had changed drastically, from worse to best. After doing splendidly against the dragon, practically the whole school changed their attitude towards him. He used the word practically because, of course, there was Malfoy and some Slytherins still teasing him at any opportunity, but that didn't matter, that was just the usual. Having the whole school realizing how stupid they had been, everyone gave only good cheers and wishes to him. Some apologies here and respectful handshakes there were some of the small things that have come to him after the First Task. It felt nice not having a whole school have their back to you.

But what really made it better was Ron. Seeing the Horntail was a major eye-opener and he more or less apologized for his rude behavior (but of course Harry was stubborn about trying to make up with him before and he knew it). Now Ron and Harry stuck together and it was a major relief for Hermione. The bags were gone from under her eyes from the constant worry. The girl was just too much but he'd never say that out loud. She was the only that stood with him. Hermione was brilliant.

"Lookalite 'e 'avnt lept in days 'f ye as' me."

"Swallow first then speak Ronald."

Ron shook his head and stuffed another pancake into his still full mouth, still examining the Muggle Inquisitor.

Ron was right though. Arthur's hair was beyond messy, as if he woke up with it and light grey was tinting beneath his eyes, signs he's been loosing sleep. Harry watched Arthur raise a forefinger and rub circles in his temples slowly and dipping his head low, his blonde hair and wrinkled long-sleeve shirt the only noticeable features of him.

Harry's stomach twisted at the sight. He didn't look like the strong, caring man who saw Harry when he was ignored; he looked so small and _tired_.

"I think I added to his stress."

Hermione blinked and gazed at him. "What?"

"Before it was my turn to go against the dragon, we talked. I asked him what he was doing here at Hogwarts. He told me to trust him because he's here to help and he wondered if he I even needed his help since I have friends."

"Trset 'im? 'Alp ye wit wha'?" Ron managed between chews.

"That's what I asked, and I asked why should I trust him when he's lying to," Harry leaned closer so only his best friends heard him, "everyone about being a wizard."

"Harry-"

"I know I know I shouldn't have said that but I was already nervous having to go up against a dragon alright? Anyways after I said that he sort of just stopped moving. He-he looked so somber and he then he just smiled and said, "Nobody should trust me because they end up getting hurt."" He clenched his fork and looked at his food, guilt rising in his chest.

"Harry, you two need to talk." Hermione broke the silence.

Harry shook his head, "He said he couldn't tell me anything because he might get in trouble."

"Trouble with who?" Ron piped up, finishing his breakfast and rubbing his stomach.

"Maybe he means with the government, but why would he get in trouble with them?" Hermione pondered and folded her paper, tucking it beneath her jacket.

"Wait hold on," Ron waved his hand and pointed to Harry, "You said that _he_," the red pointed to Arthur, "said he told your _Aunt_ that he was really important in the muggle government. But now _he's_ telling everybody that he's just an average Muggle Inquisitor who's here just to check up on muggleborns. And _now _he's saying he's here to help you but he can't because he might get in _trouble_?"

Harry had to think it over fully and nodded. Yea that sounds about right.

Ron's mouth sputtered open and closed and he shook his head, "Bloody hell Harry you meet _loads_ of confusing people."

"But _why_? Arthur and his friends are just so mysterious and I can't come up with a logical explanation for their, well anything!"

"Lukas told me that this affects him and Arthur and the rest of them more than anybody else."

"You told me he didn't say anythi-"

"I was annoyed about facing a dragon Hermione so I wanted to forget it ok?"

Hermione glowered at him.

"Sorry Hermione."

Hermione huffed loudly and folded her arms, "How does, what, the fight against," she paused and breathed in, "You-Know-Who affect _them_ more? How does it hurt them more?"

Harry and Ron could tell Hermoine's head was spinning and spinning and if she didn't stop she'd most likely trip leaving the Great Hall.

"Look Harry's he leaving!" Ron nudged him and nodded his head to Arthur.

Arthur walked with heavy steps along the aisle, not even raising his head to Harry to greet him like he had done every morning. Arthur bumped into one of the students and muttered an apology before quick walking out the Hall. Harry stood.

"Harry-"

"Look you're right Hermione I'll go talk to him ok?"

"Not that. Listen to what he has to say. Try to not to badger him for answers, something's obviously bothering him and I don't think he needs anymore stress added."

Harry nodded and grabbed his jacket, jogging out the doors following the person he wanted to talk to most.

Arthur walked and walked and Harry followed, not caring where he was going as long as it was somewhere far from people. And Arthur did that, stopping in a hall that people rarely passed through. The man slumped against the wall and slid down in a tired mess.

How can someone look so _vulnerable_?

Arthur lifted his head and looked straight at Harry and sighed loudly.

"I thought someone was following me."

Harry walked to him and Arthur patted the ground, "Take a seat if you'd like."

Harry sat with his legs pulled to his chest, lazily hanging his arms over his knees.

No one spoke. Harry didn't know if he should talk, but he didn't. He couldn't when this moment felt so nice. As if all past conversations had been wiped away and leaving only this moment of solitude for them.

Peace between them was what he wanted.

Arthur's head lied against the cool wall and he breathed deeply, as if his lungs never had enough air. Then he opened his mouth to speak.

"Harry I-"

"Sir, if I may," Harry interrupted. Arthur blinked but nodded. "I've been stubborn and I know that I should listen to what you've had to say but I didn't and I've told you things I shouldn't have and things I didn't mean. I'm sorry Mr. Kirkland, I'm really sorry."

Arthur blinked again and his mouth hung agape. Then he chuckled lightly and rubbed his face. His lean figure sat up and he bent one leg, resting his forehead on the knee.

"No Harry it's quite alright. You shouldn't have to apologize."

"No I need to. All those things I said were all in spite because I was bitter about you leaving and not coming to see me sooner. I was mad at you because I thought you forgotten about me but you're here again, I was wrong. You did keep your promise and I trust you."

Harry wanted his words to reach him, to let him know it wasn't his fault.

Arthur gripped his hair, "You're such a good kid Harry. I never forgot about you. And trusting is such a hard thing to do. Trusting _me_ of all people is something you really shouldn't do."

Harry was about to retort but Hermione's words echoed through his mind and he shut his mouth.

"But hearing you say that you trust me, it makes me so happy and," Arthur breathed in again and his shoulders started trembling slightly.

"I'm so sorry Harry I'm so sorry."

Harry drew in a sharp breath. He slowly raised his hand touched his shoulder, Arthur freezing at the sudden contact.

"Sir, you don't have to apologize."

"If it weren't for me these damn games wouldn't be here, if I actually stayed then that damn Tom Riddle wouldn't be alive and you, Harry, you wouldn't have gone through all this. Bloody hell if I wasn't such a coward then _none_ of this would have happened."

Harry's mind was whizzing with all this new information. He didn't understand it, he didn't know how everything could have been prevented if Arthur had done something. He didn't know. But he wrapped his arms around Arthur to try and ease him.

"Mr. Kirkland, I really have no idea what you're saying, but you didn't do anything wrong. You're one of the bravest people I know. If you can stand up to my Aunt then you're surely a strong person."

Arthur's chest rumbled as he laughed, raising his head to catch eyes with Harry.

"That is by far one of the greatest compliments I've ever received Harry." Arthur ruffled Harry's hair and Harry smiled

And they laughed until it died down to small chuckles.

"You know," Arthur started, "if I'm here I may as well tell you why I'm here."

Harry's heart leaped as he settled back into his original position.

"But," Arthur raised a finger, "I can only tell you a little bit of my plan ok?"

A little bit was more than enough for Harry.

"Before I begin, could you do me a favor?"

Harry nodded his head. Arthur smiled at the response.

"You remind me so much of when you were little," he murmured, his green eyes lighting up. "Call me Arthur. Only be formal when others can hear. I hate hearing that name, especially from that _frog_."

"Frog? Do you mean Mr. Bonnefoy?"

Arthur shuddered at the name, "Yeah, him. Annoying twat I tell you."

Harry giggled, "Ok then, Arthur. Can I call him frog too?"

Arthur nearly toppled over in a fit of laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Oh God hearing someone else call him that would be marvelous."

"But you should only call him that when you find out what he's really like. _Then_ you have my permission ok?"

Harry nodded smiling.

Best friend back and making up with Arthur?

Harry was happy.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

LINE THING BACK BC IM SMART AND REALIZED I CAN COPY N PASTE HAAAAAAAAAA

Awww look at that some make up! Omg what IF something happens where England gets more shit coming his way ! (((:

We'll see~

But thank you for the reviews and reading have a lovely day!


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